Four Months Before the Golden Rooster
by 0o Moon Calf o0
Summary: 17 centuries after Christ's birth, 16 years after the Great London Plague, 4 months before the year of the rooster was declared in the east, came to England a weary traveler to change the world of magic thus far...and his name...was Clow Reed. Follows the tale of Yue, Clow, and Cerberus' lives from the time of the boys' creation in 1681 to Clow's death in the early 19th century.
1. The Stranger

_AN: Okay, this is a note to anyone who thinks it's a good idea to write your prologue in 3 hours—__**in the middle of the night**__—and then go ahead and post it. Actually, I also find it quite a testament to how much a writer can grow over the course of a fic, and then feel like they have to fix earlier chapters. At any rate, this has been re-written so that it's a bit more up to par with the later chapters. Please enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: This is a disclaimer. It's a lovely little memento that all of us authors her on FF have to add to the beginning of our fics so that none of you lovely readers out there can be lulled into believing that we own any of the works we base our fics on. Considering that the site is called 'Fanfiction'.net, however, I expect most of you already know that I am not, nor have I ever been (outside my sick, twisted dreams) been a member of CLAMP, and do not own CCS one bit. This has now been a really long (but undoubtedly original!) disclaimer. _

**Part 1: Clow Reed**

_Seventeen centuries after the birth of Christ, eight decades after Robert Devereux was beheaded, three hundred years since the birth of Marco Polo, sixteen years after the great plague of London, four months before the year of the rooster was declared in China, came to England a weary traveler, traveling from afar, into a pub on a rainy afternoon, into a desolate bar where a little candle flickered, to change the world thus far._

**Chapter 1, the Stranger**

In the nowhere town of Fai, China, they still sometimes talked about it when all other gossip is low—occasions when the weather was hot and the citizens had little more to do with themselves than laze around under the shade of the nearest tree. They talked of Li Chen, the little girl who had caused the downfall of her family. They talked of her betrayal with her wretched foreign lover, and sometimes even of her son, who all but hanged himself in the end. It didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things: the Li family had long since moved away from Fai in favor of Hong Kong's much more vibrant streets, but when you've got nothing to talk about and all day to talk, there's nothing like a good scandal to draw up a conversation. It happened many years ago, they said, back in the 17th century, the old trails and traces that Marco Polo had himself walked brought a curious man named Reed to their little town. So the legend said, he had come seeking council form the peculiarly famous Li clan—no doubt from a shared interest in certain illicit affairs which both families were rumored to have delved in. He had been out right refused, the story told, for what reasons no one alive could remember, but had not left the city in dismay as was expected. Instead, he chose to linger, for weeks, months, perhaps even years—the tales exact details had long-since become skewed. The most elaborate of story tellers would here begin winding the tales of a great deception that followed, though the stories are many and diverse, telling of everything from rebel attempts to the slaying of dragons. But there is one man in this nowhere town upon whose porch many a listener will gather to hear what he calls the _real_ story.

"She loved him in secret, little Li Chen." A one Yi Min informs his gathered audience. "She would run to his home by the cover of the night, dressed in black silk she stole from her mother, and knock thrice upon Reed's door: their secret code.

"They were wed in the woods," he tells further when he is satisfied his listeners hang on his every word. "With only the moon and the stars as their whiteness, before Reed's return to England, where he soon after died, it is said that she bore him a son and named him Clow

…Clow Reed."

* * *

"Well now, you look like you've been travilin' quite a ways now, haven't you fella'?"

In his long years of serving up morning beers to busy workmen on their way to their bleak and meaningless jobs, and midnight whiskeys to the widest assortment of lonely and broken-hearted, Tom Withers thought he had seen everything. That is, until one soggy evening in September.

Business had been slow that day, no one wanting to make the trudge in this awful rain, he supposed, down to his little pub. Nice to know he had such _loyal_ customers that wouldn't be bothered by a light little drizzle. But as slow as the day had been, Tom hadn't been entirely without 'customers', if you could call them that. Earlier in the morning he'd had old Elizabeth Rae who lived a block down, (probably stocking up for a 'customer' or two of her own, Tom suspected) and there'd been some young couple in just before noon who sat by the window with some of his cheaper wine, but they'd left when the weather took a turn for the worse. Some drunk who'd wandered in off the streets had been here for quite awhile now too, sitting alone in a dark little corner of the bar, occasionally ordering a glass of whatever alcohol popped into his head at the time. Needless to say, local barman Tom Withers, who had long since given up on selling many drinks today and resorted instead to wiping out glasses and mugs with a little moth-eaten rag, was most certainly not expecting at exactly 5:42 that particular evening to come across the strangest fellow yet to walk into his bar.

Tom thought for a moment that he had imagined it when he heard the little bell above his door ring. In fact, if it hadn't been accompanied by the sudden thunderous sound of the pouring rain outside and quickly followed by the creak of the old rickety door sliding shut again, he may not have even looked up from his glasses at all. Unbelievingly, the tired barman glanced up from his work—he just _had_ to get a look at what kind of nutcase had walked into his bar _this_ time (for truth be told, that was the sort he'd seemed to get all day). It was quite a sight that met old Tom's eyes. Just inside the squeaky wooden door stood the most peculiar looking fellow the stunned barman had ever seen –or at least the most peculiar he'd seen in a very long time—dripping on his floor.

He wore a big, black, furry traveling coat that went, it seemed, all the way up to his ears; beneath this mass of fur, Tom could sees at least three other layers of mismatched clothing including a standard brown gentleman's coat that was splotched with stains and filled with holes, a semi-sheer, ratty grey cloak (for lack of a better word), and on the bottom a silk shirt of pure white. His pants were a worn and faded brown with the pockets turned inside out. The gentleman wore no hat, but rather left his long black mane of hair dripping as it fell about his face from its messy ponytail. The loose strands lay strewn across his shoulders from the torrential winds outside, and, in the chaos, it was difficult to determine where man ended and dark fuzzy coat began. Out from this mass of black, could be seen a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, a few drops of rain (which hadn't yet grown too heavy and fallen from their perch) were still visible on the foggy glass surface. The heavy, though worn, boots on the chap's feet, and the many straps of numerous different leather bags, running across the man's chest, gave every impression of his obvious long journey to get not only to Tom's bar, but probably to this town in general. Indeed, Tom thought to himself as the gentleman paused momentarily to wipe his glasses, revealing a pair of dark blue, almond-shaped eyes, he hardly seemed from this country at all!

This was a time long before the invention of cruise ships or aeroplanes which could link together the wide and diverse world. It was only a few centuries in fact since trade roots had been established to the exotic lands of India and the Far East, and likewise as long since European explorers had dared to explore the depths of Africa. Even shorter was the time since the Americas, the farthest of the eastern lands yet, had been stumbled upon by 'civilized' man. It was a tricky age in which the distant cultures, resources, and peoples of the rest of the diverse world were only beginning to be discovered, and the established societal rules on how precisely to regard their fellow races had not yet entirely occurred to the budding British Empire. All the same, it was quite apart from the usual to have a gentleman of such clearly Eastern influence wander into your bar in the late evening—most especially for Tom Whithers who had long-since accepted that nothing interesting could ever come to this, his tiny village home.

Possibly the oddest thing about Tom's new customer, however, was not his hair or his shoes, his furry coat or inside out-pockets, his inky oriental hair or his slanted eyes, but the smile he wore on his face. A soft and yet evilly maniacal smile which still hung about his lips even as he shook his hair like a soggy old dog in a pointless attempt to clear it of water. It was an almost comical expression—as though it had been permanently painted on by da Vinci, or Botticelli, or some other of the great masters of the past few decades—for it seemed that neither the horrid weather, nor the gloom of Tom's bar could stop this stranger's immovable grin.

After his pitiful attempt to rid his long black hair of the rain outside, Tom's strange visitor made his way to the bar and sat down on the nearest stool: one a few seats down from the drunk in the corner who had been Old Tom's primary customer all day. It took the barman a few moments before he realized this motion; he'd been so busy contemplating the fellow's odd appearance!

"Oh… uhh…good afternoon to ya'!" Tom managed to blurt out, finally coming back to his senses.

"And the same I might offer to you," the stranger in the furry coat replied. "Although the weather is hardly what I'd call good, this storm's been following me ever since I lay foot on Bristol, by now I'll be surprised if I ever dry back out again." He laughed. He spoke with an accent that was not quite like anything Tom had heard before all across the isles—but of course, that really wasn't at all where he suspected this man to be from, was it? His voice danced upon the syllables with an almost musical quality which the old barman was sure he had never heard before even on foreigners. But despite this peculiarity, there was nothing about the fellow's speech which he could call incorrect. He had the distinct sound of someone trying very hard to pretend as if he'd been living in southern England his entire life, but that wasn't all that unusual in a small village like this even with domestic strangers from the north (where, if Tom was to be honest, they spoke something which not quite what he would call 'English' anyway). Indeed, of all the learned London-area accents the old man had heard in his days, he had to admit that this odd foreign fellow had one of the best. Clearly, he had been well educated before he came here. And just as clearly, Tom mused, he must have known that it was here in the southern country that he wanted to make his business (though indeed, he thought, who _wouldn't_).

The man ordered himself a glass of brandy and let his gaze wander off in the direction by the happily dancing flame of the candle that Tom had been cleaning his glasses by only minutes before. Still curious about this stranger, Tom peered carefully over his shoulder at the fellow as he filled one of his recently wiped cups with deep amber liquid. He watched how the little flame glimmered in the stranger's eyes, how it seemed to entice and hypnotize him as he stared off into its blazing depths. Tom passed his new customer his glass of brandy, not letting his gaze drift from the gentleman's face. The man passed Tom a few coins which the barman was too distracted to pay much attention to, and all was silent for a few moments. Both the strange traveler and Tom stared, each locked in their gazing and wondering, with the only sound a few whispered grunts from the drunk in the corner. With the force of a canon, both men's trances were broken as an enormous clap of thunder sounded from the raging storm outside. The walls shook with the impact, and the little bottles on their walls clinked and shivered. The drunk in the corner looked haphazardly around with his sunken, stupid eyes. Tom blinked a few times confusedly, and the fellow sitting before him seemed to shake his gaze from the candle on the bar.

As though he had just awakened from a deep sleep, Tom suddenly realized that he finally had his first real customer of the day, and hadn't even broken conversation yet! He felt hotly embarrassed with himself; what could he have been thinking? Didn't he have a reputation to uphold? As the first and only barman of this eastern edge of Surrey (well, unless you counted those two lunatics up in Bagshot)? The time was ripe to make merry, after all, it wasn't every day this little town got visitors! What on earth could he have been thinking of? Truth be told, Tom couldn't remember one bit about what he had found so important a moment ago… perhaps it would come back to him later. The hypnotic state of mind the fire had brought a few moments ago seemed to be instantly forgotten, and in years to come, Old Tom Withers would never be able to remember any of the events past or to come on this night as anything more than perhaps a fond nighttime dream. Now, it seemed his only focus was finding out more about this oddly dressed stranger who'd wandered into his pub. Bristol…he'd said something about Bristol…Tom glanced from the fellow's traveling bags to his long draping cloak and his big fuzzy jacket, and at last spoke.

"Well now, you look like you've been travilin' quite a ways now, haven't you fella'?"

The man smiled over his glass of brandy, as though the strange haze of the moment before had vanished for him too. "Is it that obvious?" he chuckled good-naturedly. Tom laughed too, and it seemed as if the both Tom's peculiar curiosity as well as the stranger's own distraction had never occurred. Why, Tom had even momentarily forgotten about the wretched storm outside which had kept away a day's worth of potential customers.

"So where you commin' from?" the old barman asked, his voice casual and merry as it boomed from his large chest.

"China." Came the reply.

Even the drunk, who had sat quietly in the dark corner all day, looked up at this comment. Apparently, against all odds, he was sober enough to register that it wasn't every day that you met a man from exotic China, especially not if you lived in this little nothing of a town.

"China?!" Tom echoed, astounded. Of course, he had suspected something of that sort… at least, he _thought_ he had… "You're Chinese?!"

The traveler chuckled. "Well, sort of." He remarked. The gentleman sighed, and leaned back a little on his bar stool as if he were a great poet about to unveil a wondrous story to all around. "My mother's family is Chinese. She was supposed to be their heir in fact, not that any of that matters now. I was supposed to take her place. Raised from birth to be a great head of family, can you imagine that? But personally," he admitted more seriously, eyeing the glass in his hand as if to divine the future from its amber depths. "Personally I couldn't stand the lot of them. Such tradition-centered, narrow-minded fools. You see, when my mother was young, she fell in love with my father, Xavier, an Englishman, so I suppose I'm as untraditional and mixed up as can be."

"Is that what you're doing here?" Tom asked, leaning lazily on his bar as he listened to the pleasant rise and fall of the man's deep sing-song voice. "Come to seek your father's roots instead?"

The gentleman on the stool didn't answer right away. His gaze fell, and his smile which Tom had so admired earlier slipped ever so slightly. He looked in all good judgment as if he were in pain from something burning deep within him, and Tom at once felt ashamed for speaking so rashly. What was wrong with him tonight? The silence echoed across the bar, and Tom feared that this time it might be endless…

"What kind of bloke was he?"

Both Tom and the stranger jumped, the latter nearly losing his balance and falling to the floor. The drunk in the corner turned to face them more directly. His ever wrinkle glowing in the faint candle light, and his wild grey hair flying. "Well, what kind of damn bloke was he?" he repeated.

Another clap of thunder sounded. Tom and his customer broke out laughing at not only the impeccable timing of the old drunken man (whom neither had heard speak all day), but at the fact that he was sober enough to comprehend the world around him—something that both men had been silently doubting considering his generally glazed-over appearance and the amount of alcohol he had consumed. The lightness of the mood in the little bar didn't last long, however, as the strange man in the furry coat let his gaze drift gloomily once again in the direction of Tom's lit candle.

"I never knew my father." He said slowly. "The first I heard of the man was that he'd died."

The firelight's faint glow seemed to descend upon the whole room, and the storm outside seemed suddenly more looming. Neither the drunk nor Tom spoke, but rather sat in their thick, dense silence as they watched their companion finish off the last of his brandy, staring off into the candle, as though he could see something beyond just the physical flame itself.

"So fascinating, fire." The strange traveler whispered. "The child of sunlight. How wonderful it would be if we could truly harness it; if we could take the very spirit of that sun, and bring it down into our own flesh and blood, could perhaps it bring it's flame with it too?"

Even the thunder seemed to silence, and the darkness of the room seemed to take on a life of its own. Tom was beginning to feel a might uncomfortable now. As interesting as this odd visitor of his bar was, he was starting to get an odd feeling off the bloke. There was something about this man that just wasn't normal!

The Stranger laughed silently to himself. "If only my father knew what he was truly giving his son: a final chance of freedom from those bigoted relatives of my mother's. " The fellow seemed to be talking for himself alone; it was as though, in their silence, he had forgotten completely of Tom, the tired barman, and the old drunk in the dark corner, speaking merely for his thoughts to be voiced. "Those damn Chinese." He muttered. "I love them, but there must be change, a break in tradition." The strange gentlemen slowly stood from his stool and, with a last look at the candle on the bar, muttered "I know that I can do what has never been done. I can bend the rules of what they say is possible, and bring down those powers that both the easterners and the westerners alone have failed to capture." He whispered one thing more, so silent that the other two men, standing dumbfounded on either side of him, could scarcely have heard it. "The sun and the moon. I _will_ make them live."

He then strode easily across the room, not even so much as glancing in the direction of the two other men. As he opened the door, however, the stranger stopped, and called in a way that was unfittingly merry: "Good evening to you, gentlemen."

Tom seemed to snap, for a moment, back to his senses. "Hey, wait!" he called, though not entirely sure why. There was one thing he needed to ask. "What's your name?"

The stranger at the door turned his head over his shoulder to look the barman in the eye. As he did so, a brilliant flash of lightning ignited the sky. "Clow…" the stranger replied darkly, his face horribly half-illuminated in the sudden light. "Clow Reed." And he walked away.

A roaring clap of thunder masked the sound of the door's little bell as it closed behind him.

_So, what did you think of it? Tell me your opinions! Review, I'm begging you! Cerberus will join us in chapter 3, and Yue will come along in chapter 5. Now, go on…press the little review button, you know you want to. Go on, press it!_


	2. Reed Manor

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part one: Clow Reed**

**Chapter 2, Reed Manor**

The dirt covered roads that led down to the main village still lay damp and lined with puddles, the lush grass fields still so sodden that one would sink within them, and the trees around the swollen river still rained down left-over drops of water when the wind blew through them. Besides these things, however, there were no signs of the storm from the night before, in the little river valley town of Lightwater, as all of the village's inhabitants wandered about the streets to the local market—or else bustled off to their daily jobs. All about the weak morning sunlight, all manner of people walled to and fro, with not a single mind to the puddles and such in the roads. They all appeared as gay as could be. A horse's hooves made a muted clip-clop in the earth as it trotted along the main street, its carriage behind it driven by a jolly plump fellow looking ready to start the day's transport. A small gaggle of women laughed merrily with each other as they cascaded down the lane, a cache of little ones in their wake. Their long skirts and aprons danced upon the light wind, shining a happy rainbow of colors across the landscape, and the children behind them giggled and joked with each other as they walked along behind their mothers, their bright smiles like the first rays of sunlight in the crisp morning. Tom the barman was already getting some early business as several of the gentlemen on the streets stopped by for a morning beer before work. A good thing too, Tom imagined, as he couldn't remember getting any customers last night. On every corner and intersection, shops began all at once to open, throwing wide their locked-up shudders, girls in clean white dresses bounding out with the day's merchandise ready to be set up outside their storefront.

It was onto this scene that Clow Reed stood at the edge of the river, where it wound away from the forest of trees. He was feeling much the spirit of the morning, and as he stood, his eyes far above him, it was with a great, confident smile painted whimsically upon his face. At the base of the tree trunks, a small family of squirrels made their way out into the newly-born sunlight, but Clow could scarcely notice them. His eyes were fixed much higher, deep into the depths of the forest where the trees shot upward with the incline of a large hill. To an outsider, it looked like any other tree-decked hill here in the valley, but to Clow, it was a glorious sight indeed. There it was, he thought to himself, hidden within the foliage so that it could not be seen from here at the hill's edge, but it was there: Reed manor. The vast, ancestral home his father had left abandoned for his only son. The great stronghold of the Reed family of southern England, which had been established long ago when the family's first magicians had made themselves into fame and prominence. It would be that manor, he thought with a swelling sort of pride, that he would soon call his home, like his father and grandfather before him. And, he mused: it was there that he would finally be free of his overbearing mother's family to practice, as any good sorcerer would, his magic: his revolutionary new magic with which he would change the world.

"Are you hoping to see something through those trees?"

The voice snapped Clow out of his musings and back to the awakening town around him. He turned slowly to find standing behind him a rather well dressed gentleman gazing at him with merry curiosity. His clothes were crisp and bright, and he stood with an air about him that suggested him to be much higher in rank than many of the laypeople in the town. All the same, however, he still had a good healthy layer of dirt about him which somehow made him more realistic and loveable. As if he had and was working hard for his bit of prominence in the city, not at all the upper-class snobbery Clow, coming fresh from the Li family aristocrats of China, was used to. It was inviting, the sorcerer supposed. He was a fairly tall fellow, though perhaps still a few inches shorter than the towering Clow Reed, and appeared to be a fairly young man. Clow would have hazarded to guess that he was at least a decade the man's senior. He had a merry face, smiling in the sunshine, and framed by likewise bright locks of golden curls (which fell almost to his shoulders) and a short beard to match. He had taken off his jacket in the humid sort of post-rain heat of the day, leaving the length of dirty and faded brown fabric to drape over his arm, and exposing his crisp, white, long-sleeved shirt underneath. Over his other arm he carried a large cloth bag filled, presumably, with supplies gathered from the market place in the center of the town.

So distracted was Clow, that for a moment he had forgotten the man's question, now it came flooding back to him, '_The trees, he had been asking what I was looking at_.' Clow chuckled good-naturedly, turning his gaze back to the forest of green behind him as the blond gentleman with the bag of supplies came up the road to meet him.

"Nothing much up there to look at, I'm afraid." The man commented as he stood beside Clow, letting his eyes drift along the green of the woods. His voice was kind, and his speech more pronounced and classy than Tom Whithers and his drunk, the only other Englishmen Clow had met. "Only thing up that hill is old Reed manor, and it's been deserted now for many a year since the last heir died."

"Did you by any chance happen to know this heir?" Clow asked curiously, still looking onward to the scene before him as if hoping not to betray how deep his interest in the matter lay. As he had told those men in the bar, he knew very little of his father, and yet he owed him so deeply for all of the fortune that was soon to befall him. For his freedom at least, and a second option of where to call 'home'.

"Reed?" the gentleman asked with a laugh, bringing Clow back to the present. "I don't think anyone ever really knew the man; he stayed up there in that grubby mansion of his all day and night. Took three days, if I remember correctly before anyone realized the poor bloke was dead!"

Clow laughed along with him. "Well, that's better than his own son did. I only just now found out he was dead when word got out he'd left me that 'grubby' manor."

It took the gentleman a moment to process exactly what it was he had just been told, and for a moment, he remained just as jolly, surveying the tall trees which stood before them. Then, as if in slow motion, his face fell, and his eyes began flying over his strange companion as if trying to decide if he could truly be the offspring of the illusive dead man of their discussion. "I—ah—I didn't know that Reed had a son…" he hammered off. "I—I'm pretty sure the bloke never married…"

Clow merely smiled at the look of confusion apparent on the face of the gentleman with the long blond curls, his new acquaintance. "Well," he responded kindly to the much bewildered man beside him, "I don't suppose anyone thought to look as far as China. I was born and raised there by my mother."

"China…!" it was muttered almost inaudibly, as if it could have merely been drifting along on the breath of the wind, not spoken at all. For a half a second more the tall, golden-haired fellow continued to look on with utter disbelief at the stranger beside him, having every appearance of wild game caught in a hunter's line of sight. As he gaped, Clow wondered ruefully if this was going to be everyone's reaction to him here in England. After granting himself a few more peeks at Clow's dark, straight hair, and thin, slanted blue eyes, however, the fellow at his left seemed to recall his place as a gentleman, ans at once regained himself. "Well," He said clearly, doing his best to reestablish his composure, "May I be the first to welcome you to the good King George's England, and naturally or humble little town of Lightwater." He offered his hand, which Clow gratefully shook. "My name is Benjamin Hawkins, and I would be her good servant of Hippocrates, or more plainly, the local physician." Hawkins's smile seemed to widen now that he had turned the topic of conversation back to the area of his understanding. His speech was almost theatrical, more befitting of a Shakespearian performance rather than everyday talk, but all the same, Clow found it wonderfully merry. And as he spoke, all the while, he beamed the brightest and most genuine of smiles, despite, Clow admitted, the apparent oddity of his foreign company. Perhaps there was hope for this country after all.

"I'm Clow Reed," he replied, "and apparently the newcomer of these parts." He added as an after thought, as a pair of passing women turned toward each other at the sight of him, pointing and muttering together as they walked by.

"They'll get used to you." Hawkins laughed. "The whole of Lightwater's like a big family, everyone knows everyone, kind of makes outsiders a bit obvious. Give them a couple of days; they'll adopt you fast enough."

Clow continued to watch the women with a remorseful sort of expression as they turned the corner round an enormous arching bend, and disappeared. Dr. Hawkins surveyed him all the time, his kind blue eyes glowing dimly with hint of sorrow at the poor out of place man. It was curious, the doctor had to admit, the man coming out of nowhere and all—miraculously showing up on their doorstep, claiming to be the heirless Reed's son. Perhaps if it had been a few years or so it might not be such an unusual thing, after all, every good traveling man was owed his share of a good time with the locals, and Reed was surely no exception, but as it was, Xavier Reed had been dead some two-and-a-half decades now. Of all the times for a long-lost child to come out of the woodworks, the timing did seem a bit odd. What was it, the young blond man wondered to himself, absentmindedly playing with his short beard as his companion's back remained turned toward the end of the path. If he really is Reed's son, if it really was a matter of the distance or international relations that had deprived him of the news of his father's demise, then what the devil was it still that had brought this Clow Reed here to the nowhere town of Lightwater after an entire life abroad?

Biting his lip with deliberation, Hawkins at last spoke just as the gentleman beside him began to turn back toward his previous contemplation of the foliage. "Hey, have you found yourself any place to stay tonight?" he asked, his voice lilting in its song-like fashion as he spoke. For a second or two, Clow stood there blinking in surprise, both at the suddenness of the question and the relative respectfulness of it—as if for the first time there was someone here in England who half-cared whether he succeeded here in southern England, or was sent packing.

"I-I suppose not yet." Clow answered uncertainly, still slightly stunned by the question. The doctor nodded, looked contemplative, scratching his beard like an old philosopher lost in deep thought. "Well, I just happen to have a spare bed back at my practice if you don't mind sleeping where I usually put the patients." He smiled, good naturedly, and Clow chuckled at the thought.

"So long," he replied, laughing, "So long as everything's still in the right place when I get up the next morning, Doctor."

* * *

The remainder of Clow's things, which he had had shipped over, arrived the next morning. It was with obvious curiosity that a small crowd of women gathered around as their town's fresh blood stood puzzling how exactly he was going to get the large cart full of his personal possessions up the hill to Reed Manor. Perhaps he had underestimated those two chatting ladies who had passed him up yesterday, it was quite clear by the size of his new-found audience that word of him had spread like wildfire across the town. (He was quite sure that Benjamin Hawkins would not have said anything.)

The rolling, forested hills that led up to Reed manor were very steep considering their size, and the dirt path that ran its way up through the trees was not exactly easily navigable either. The old pathway was dry and worn from years if disuse, and the somewhat rocky terrain if the hill presented itself through the weathered dirt along with the roots from the surrounding trees. It was starting to seem apparent to the foreign sorcerer just how long it must have been since the entire area had been in any sort of consistent use. He had learned from his new friend the doctor that it had been at least 20 years since his father had passed away, but it seemed to Clow (judging by the over-grown foliage and eroded pathway) that it had been much longer than that since the Manor had been any kind of popular destination. Perhaps his recent ancestors hadn't been the social type. It also didn't help Clow any that the little pony that had dragged his heavy cart of belongings all this way seemed to have little enthusiasm left to drag its load up the treacherous slope.

At first Clow's audience seemed to merely be enjoying with amusement the pure comedy of his dilemma as they stood around sniggering and pointing. Clow simply ignored the women, after all, what did it matter? He was the new man in a small town, and as such, had long ago prepared to be the victim of a few cruel jokes like this until the locals got used to his presence in their village. Turning his back to the crowd and his attention to the little horse in front of him, Clow attempted to force the animal to move, pushing its hind-quarters as forcefully as he could; a crude method, perhaps, Clow thought, but it seemed at the moment his only option. "If only," Clow muttered as he heaved at the pony, "I could do just a little magic!" So silent was this last spoken that scarcely a watching villager could have heard it. And even if one lazy housewife had managed to catch Clow's words, surely she would have written them off as nonsense: a mishearing. After all, it had sounded as if the gentleman had said the word 'magic'! What an absurd thing to hear of in good 'King George's England'! But, Clow thought to himself as he worked, however pointlessly on moving his stubborn horse, it's for my magic that I came here. It was true, wonderfully true indeed. It mattered not, in the end whether these Britons accepted him or not, whether they welcomed him to their village, or spurned him as a nasty foreign outsider. All that mattered was that he was at last free of his mother's family. Those Li's may be great magicians, Clow reflected nastily, but they have no respect for difference, for creativity. Surely these English could be no more narrow-minded and prejudiced as his own family had been. The Li's may have wanted him to be their heir, but they wanted nothing to do with his ideas. With what his new bi-racial power could potentially do for the world of sorcery!

___And now at last, _Clow chuckled to himself, at last he was free of their clutches. He was seas and countries and continents away from those fools now, and there was not a soul here in _this_ village who would even know to stand in his way. It was time to bend the rules of the universe, to test what had never been tested, and to stretch magic to its limits. Indeed, he didn't need these villagers or their respect, all he needed was for them to stay mundane and disenchanted, to keep their noses out—as he knew they would, sheltered by their churches and their perceived safety—and to let him test his magic at last. What did it matter if he were spurned on the way?

As she watched the poor man before her struggle, a taller woman from amongst the crowd at last got to her feet. Wordlessly she walked over to the nose of the pony that Clow was so intently pushing and grabbed at the long strips of leather that wound their way across the creature's face. As she pulled upon its reigns, the pony began to slowly move forward up the dusty and overgrown path before it. Feeling the movement of the animal against him, Clow looked up; he saw the tall woman tugging on the reigns, and several of her fellows, moments ago merely pointing and sniggering at him, gathered around the back of the wagon, wordlessly, and helping to force both load and pony up the hill.

Hawkins words echoed in Clow's mind: '_They'll adopt you fast enough'_. Clow, the newcomer, smiled as the wagon containing his belongings began to make their way up toward Reed manor. _'Already,'_ he thought, _'these westerners are more accepting than the Li's and their rules.'_ Clow chuckled to himself. _'I think I'm going to like England.'_

* * *

It was months after the storm which had shaken the countryside and left the bar of old Tom nearly deserted. The seasons had flown past, and the spring flowers were beginning to fill up the bases of the rolling hills along the riverbed. (With a prang, Clow had realized that back in China, the new year of the golden rooster would have been declared ages ago.) The skies had, almost apologetically remained clear since the wet autumn. It was to the glowing sunset upon these clear skies that a young doctor, tired from a long days work, sat in a little pavilion in the heart of Lightwater's market place, his golden hair gleaming with the fading sun. Beside him was an older companion whose appearance, though now thankfully clear of any furry coats, would still draw the occasional odd looks form the passerby. "—whole line of physicians." The younger of the two men was saying. "Wasn't really any other option, you know? Father was a physician, grandfather—hell, if you go back far enough, I've probably got a great-great-grand-pappy or something that was sharing tips with William Harvey!"

"Ah yes, Harvey: You're great discoverer of primary circulation." The middle-aged man sitting across from the doctor replied conversationally. In the time that had passed since local surgeon, Benjamin Hawkins, had first met this gentleman, he had learned not to be surprised at the foreigner's considerable knowledge in the subjects of science and mathematics. Clow Reed indeed seemed to be quite an interesting fellow, having been able to, upon arrival to this new western land, identify every major scientist or thinker that Hawkins could throw at him. Was it normal for the Chinese to be so well versed on western geniuses? Though Clow's intellectual capacity seemed to move far beyond William Harvey, or any of his fellows. On a good day the man could also quote Arabic and far Eastern scholars with equal ease. Utterly awed by his new found friend's knowledge, Hawkins often found himself on evenings like these, stirring up conversations of theory and philosophy for the pure joy of being able to listen to such a mastermind as Clow. For this reason, it was of no surprise to the young blond doctor when his companion, after a brief silence, began an abrupt change of subject:

"Hawkins, can I ask you something…theoretically?"

"Of course, dear boy," Hawkins urged, leaning in farther so that his elbows rested on the table between the two men, the look on his face reminiscent of a young child receiving a treat.

Clow's eyes wandered off in the direction of the sunset sky, with its painted flames flying across the horizon. The setting sun had bathed the entire pavilion by now in a warm orange light as it sank lower and lower beneath the trees, casting long shadows across the apricot pavers below, and giving Clow's dark blue eyes an almost blackened appearance in contrast. He kept his eyes on the glowing sky as he spoke, as if he were entranced by it, "Tell me something, my friend, what would you think if the sun had a soul?"

"What?" Hawking laughed, utterly enjoying the strange track of conversation. It was not unlike Clow to frequently refer to myth and legend in their discussions, for truth be told, he seemed well learned in the subjects. And it was always so fascinating, the doctor reflected, to hear him on one of his rants about the frequent recurrence of beliefs and stories across many cultures. Indeed, the man had a wonderfully dizzying intellect.

Clow sighed and took half a glance at the gentleman across from him as he continued. "Think, Hawkins: So many cultures across the world, so many stories and myths and legends…" His voice trailed off for a moment before he continued on, "Don't you think it's strange, Hawkins, that all of those stories and legends seem to have one thing in common?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow." Hawkins chuckled merrily; he had been hoping this was where their discussion was going, and he certainly wasn't going to stop Clow's steam now with his own silly interjections.

"Think." Clow repeated, "The sun and the moon, Hawkins. How many peoples have gazed upon their heavenly depths and imagined life there. Spirits, deities, demons—each a little different, but essentially the same: Souls, Hawkins, souls." The middle-aged man's voice trailed off as he once more turned to face the setting sun. "Regardless of what name they assign them, ghost or god, they all describe souls—living souls like yours and mine. Don't you think that's odd, that it might mean something? Don't you think, perhaps these cultures might just be proving to us, Hawkins, that there _is _something there, that if a man could only have the means to harness that soul and bring it into his own flesh and blood, that perhaps it could live like he does?"

Hawkins sat in a long moment of deep contemplation, letting the words of Clow Reed swim about in his mind. Such a strange concept, and even the discussion of it seemed to be, for some reason, unnerving. It was as if the topic itself were some forbidden crime, and that even the speech of them made the lips burn and the tongue singe and the heart race with the fear of discovery. But that was absurd! After all, what were they discussing but theory, philosophy?

"I suppose I can understand that." Hawkins said at last. "Yes, that makes sense, theoretically of course." Hawkins grinned; his amusement with such an intelligent and intellectual discussion returning as he playfully urged the conversation on. "But let us suppose you were right about these souls of the sun and moon, what then? Suppose a man did have the power to bring them into bodily form and make them breathe, then what? Just how would he go about it, Clow?"

Clow smiled too, and turned away from the brilliant sky to face Hawkins fully, a strange glint shining in his eyes and absolute joy carved upon his face. "You already know the answer!" Clow egged on with unusual eagerness, "Tell me, my friend, what would you say is the most solar day on the calendar?"

And then it came to Hawkins, like a bolt of lightning, as if he had always known the answer but had forgotten until this particular moment. "The summer solstice!" he whispered excitedly. What a wonderfully riveting conversation this was!

"Yes." Clow hissed with equal excitement. "And we can take it even further; tell me, when is the summer solstice each year?"

"Usually around the twenty-first of June, isn't it, more or less?"

Clow nodded encouragingly, "Yes, yes, that's correct, and tell me, my friend, what of your astrology—here in England I mean. Think to the stars, what sign rules over the month of June?"

Hawkins looked slightly taken aback. Astrology? What did astrology have to do with anything? But they were, after all having a highly theoretical discussion; why not throw in the zodiac? "If my memory serves me, Clow, I do believe that the twins rule over June, the Gemini…Oh! And Cancer, I suppose, the sign of the moon. It begins its reign at the month's end…" Hawkins's voice trailed off. Now he understood why Clow was bringing up the topic of astrology. Of course (what fun this discussion was): Cancer, the sign under the moon began on the twenty-first of June—on the longest day of the year, the summer solstice.

Clow must have read his companion's realization on his face, for his lips curved up in a satisfied smile. "Ironic, isn't it?" he cooed. "Ironic that the day which should solely belong to the sun is so often obscured by the moon? But do you know what else, Hawkins? Do you know that something rare sometimes happens on the calendar?" Hawkins, looking intrigued, leaned in even closer to hear. "Sometimes" Clow whispered, his face now only a few inches from Hawkins's, "sometimes the summer solstice, the day of the sun, doesn't fall upon the twenty-first of the month, but the twentieth, a day still belonging to the constellation Gemini.

"So there you have it, my boy: If we agree that these souls of the sun and moon exist, and that a man had the ability to create them into his own mortality, then we must also agree that his best chance would be to bring the sun down first, under the conditions that we've both just described? The eve of the summer solstice on the 20th of June some lucky, lucky year?"

Suddenly this conversation seemed much less fun, not so intellectual. With a furtive glance to his side, Hawkins could see that the sun had now set, and the skies were now dark, fading violet; the wind that blew seemed somehow cooler, and the sight of the deserted pavilion on which the doctor sat, ominous. He suddenly wished he hadn't come here, wished that they weren't having this talk that now seemed…more than theory.

"I—I suppose you're right." Hawking stuttered.

"Yes, and can you imagine from there, Hawkins? Can you imagine what else a man could bring solid if he could humanize the spirit of the sun? Perhaps he could harness with it the raw elements of nature: fire and earth, so often associated with the sun's power… And to say nothing of the moon which must surely come on the winter solstice, the day of night! Perhaps a full moon to do it justice too…"

"C—Clow—"But Clow seemed no longer able to hear Hawkins frightened stammering. In his eyes showed a terrifying glint, almost hungry at the prospect of holding such power in his hands, at being able to do something so crazy and theoretical that the subject itself f almost felt forbidden: as if it were against the very laws of nature. Hawkins was afraid to speak, afraid of what to say next and yet at the same time scolding himself for being so. What was there here to fear? What about theory and philosophy such as this could be 'forbidden'? All the same, the young physician found himself somewhat relieved when his companion stood up and with a glance at the darkening sky said:

"Well, I suppose we should be getting off the streets. Soon enough, I expect the vandals and grave robbers will be preparing for their nightly shift, and do forgive me, Hawkins, if I'd not like to meet them on their way."

"Sure." Hawkins replied, smiling again now that the atmosphere was lightening again, even if the sky above the two men was doing the opposite. But there was one more question burning deep in the heart of Benjamin Hawkins, and it just had to be voiced before he and Clow parted ways. "Clow," the man turned back at the sound of his name. "How often would that happen, the solstice being on the twentieth, I mean?"

Clow smiled, his glasses shining in the pale, dying light so that his eyes became invisible beneath the glare. "It happened once, five years ago in sixteen-seventy-six, and just this year last in sixteen-eighty, but, interestingly enough," He added mischievously, "It occurs again this coming summer. Just think, in a few months time, our 'theoretical' plan could be real, if only a man had the ability…the magic.

"Good night, Hawkins." The man whispered, and at once stood from the table, his massive form seeming even more imposing in the darkness of the night, his long black traveling cloak almost blending with the shadowy surroundings. With a nod in his companion's direction, the older man walked away. The doctor watched him retreat, unable to move from his spot by the table.

"Good night, Clow." He whispered to the enveloping darkness.

_I am sooo glad this chapter is finished, that means the good stuff starts next chapter, and I finally get to write it! Yay!!! (Forgive me if I'm a bit of a writing geek.)This is the last chapter in Section 1, next will be Section 2: Cerberus, and next chapter will be the summer solstice. :P (I'm so happy.)Kero-chan will finally be entering the story next chapter! In the meantime, please review!_


	3. The Summer Solstice

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part two: Cerberus**

_Seventeen centuries after the birth of Christ, three hundred years since the birth of Marco Polo, nine months after Clow Reed arrived in England, ten weeks after Benjamin Hawkins's fear, one day before the sign of cancer would rule the skies, on the eve of the summer solstice, upon the hills 'round the village of Lightwater, the spirit of the sun came into the world, with the pure earth at his feet and fire in his eyes ._

**Chapter 1, The Summer Solstice**

The dark forest loomed. Far above the village of Lightwater, situated on the cascading hills, the trees stood, casting their dark shadow upon the town in the early morning's faded light. The river at their ankles lapped happily along, joyful that its flow would not be disturbed for some time yet by the hands of its villager neighbors, all at this moment still sound asleep in their beds. Up through the hills, beyond the river, the woods grew wild. The crisp gaiety of the morning swiftly gave away to the thick foliage of the mighty grove, making the pale periwinkle skies of dawn disappear beneath their depths just as surely as if they had been magicked away by Morgan le Fay or some other of her wicked sorceress minions. Little light reflected from the unborn sun danced along the dirt-covered path, and became only darker still as trees grew deeper, and the forest loomed farther. One lonely oak to the right-hand side bore the crudely carved initials of some desperately bored soul who dared venture his way this deep into the untamed path. Gradually, however, the trees consumed any originality in the landscape, and in their monstrous height and wildly promiscuous growth, began to rush into a chain of green-and brown monotony, one step seeming just the same as the next, as if the whole forest were going in circles. The sounds of the river water began to fade, and the hill and trees alike shot up ever farther, farther. Off to one side, in the heart of the wood, cliffs of hard stone jutted away from the green terrain, overlooking a vast lake: spawn of the merrily splashing river. Onward and onward green-leafed monsters loomed. Onward and onward through the merciless underbrush they ran. Onward—until…

The monsters thinned, giving way their hold to rolling plains of grass. The dirt and rocks gave way to a stone pathway, winding up and down through the green blades with the steady ebb and flow of the wide, cascading hill on which it lay. Winding and winding hither and thither, up the sloping lawn, the long path ended at the wrought wooden doors of a looming mansion. In the shadow of the morning dawn, the tall, imposing stone of Reed manor cast darkness across the vast open landscape. The front beds of the building grew wild, and a long Ivy-like vine dug its way into the hard grey rock of the front southern wall, turning it into a mass of green leaves. In a great carved arch above the elaborate doors polished-oak doors, crumbling away, was a single faded message: _Magia est immortalis_. And it was this statement, cracked and fading upon the entryway to his father's old home that the single inhabitant of the house, Clow Reed sat contemplating. 'Magic is immortal.' The eccentric sorcerer smiled. One way or another on this day of 20 June, 1681, he was going to find out.

The Summer solstice had come at last. Clow had been expecting this…planning it. Hawkins' opinion that evening in the town square had been unnecessary—this plan had been in motion for many years now—but it was still reassuring to know that a great mind like the doctor's agreed with his logic. Hawkins may know nothing of magic, Clow Reed thought to himself as he sat musing at his paper-littered desk in the corner, but even so, it was doubtless that the fellow had some understanding of the world which far surpassed most of the people in this small town.

Clow let his eyes wander across the papers, sketches, and pamphlets before him. Long, spidery hanzi trailed down most of these, forming thick black masses of characters that ran across the surface in pristine little lines. To the inhabitants of the slumbering town below they were little more than gibberish, but to the sorcerer who's hand had written them, they were everything. Clow had neither the time nor the reason to read these papers now: all of their contents, the plan they described, was about to be put into action. The time of study and contemplation was over; tonight it was either succeed or die trying. All the same, Clow ran his fingers carefully down the black spiders in their webs. Upon one symbol they halted. To these Britons he now called his neighbors the little word would appear no more than a small black box scratched upon the curling white paper, severed in half by the thick inky line that slashed across its abdomen. The magician let his fingers trace along the brush strokes. _'Ri.' _The word echoed through his mind. Ri, the name of the sun in Chinese. How long ago had it been that a much younger Clow Reed had sat down on a sunny afternoon and written out this long plan that he was now about to put into action? How many months, seasons, years had passed since he had decided that it must exist: the spirit in the sun?

It had been a much different scene than this—that was to be sure. Clow chuckled to himself and his empty ivy-covered house. Those had been the days back in China, the days that his mother's family had tried so hard to repress him, 'squeeze' all his father's dirty western magic out of him. It now seemed so funny after all this time, the fools they were! Why didn't they understand? He was a new magic, neither eastern nor western, neither the sun nor the moon. Perhaps that was the key to it all, but the proud Li family would never hear of anything new, anything which broke their time honored hiding place which they named 'tradition'. But those days of their silly tradition were over now, Reed Sr. had left his son this house, this chance to escape China and all that came with it. All the same, there was a certain familiarity, a tiny prang of something like sorrow as he thought of his youth. The Li's estate had not entirely been hell on Earth—it was only when Li's were around that the place had seemed dreary, the land itself had been quite a lovely place to sit and contemplate the world. The adult Clow slowly sank into the nearby chair next to his work desk as hazy images danced momentarily across his vision. Lush green fields unfolded out of what had seconds ago been solid stone walls. A crisp azure sky sprinkled down from the high ceilings, and a flurry of treed and hills transformed themselves from bookshelves and curtains. For a split second in time, he was not in Lightwater, Surrey. For an instant, it was not the summer solstice, 1681. He was back home in the rolling plains of western China, and beneath the shade of a vast tree, a dark, lanky teenager sat scribbling away on a scroll of parchment. Clow smiled to himself in his daydream. He remembered all those days well. It seemed to him, looking back now, that those lengthy hours of study and note-taking in the solitude of his family's grounds were the only pleasant moments he could recall of his childhood. Perhaps it was simply destiny. Destiny that he should only have been happy when he was alone, delving into the depths of a new magic, neither east nor west. Destiny that he could never have found kinship in the time spent with his own family, and only peace when he was away from them. Yes, surely it must have been preordained that he could never have become the perfect, robotic heir his clan had desired, and would instead flee to England. Fate must be on his side in this ambitious plan, the wizard amused himself. Tonight, one way or another he would put on the line all of this magic of his, and try to do the impossible: create the embodiment of the sun. With any luck, he would succeed, and six months later the moon would follow. Perhaps it was destiny—success or failure. But why on earth, the thought mischievously, grinning madly to himself, would the universe go through such a trouble to create an outcast fellow such as himself, only to make him fail? The time of study and contemplation was indeed over; tonight it was success or demise, and only the heavens knew if this little sorcerer in question was truly to be the startling genius of a new age of magic, or a doomed jester for their own amusement.

Clow walked away from his desk, and out the carved wooden doors of Reed manor, down the sloping stone path that led to the forest.

...

The day wore on like no other in living memory. The longest day of the year seemed to be trying its dearest to live up to its great title. Every minute seemed like hours, and every hour sixty of those, making it by the late afternoon seem to Clow Reed as if he had lived through thirty June twentieth's and still done little more with himself but sit in a tiny metal chair upon the pavilion of the Lightwater shopping district and, with a shaking hand, sip anxiously at glasses of gin. The aging magician was starting to feel like he was fourteen years old again, pacing about and wondering how best to strike up a conversation with the pretty neighbor girl without falling flat on his face. As the hour-long seconds ticked past however, falling flat out on his face in the cold unforgiving mud of puberty seemed to become more and more welcoming. The amount of alcohol Clow had managed to consume in the passing hours, light drinker though he usually was, couldn't be helping his leaping nerves either. Though he had probably only topped two or three glasses in the duration, the sorcerer could have swore, as he watched the blue sky start to become tinted with flashes of pink, that it had surely gone to his head.

So it was becoming evening already. Where had the rest of the day gone, the rather buzzed gentleman wondered half-heartedly. Of course, little pink in the sky didn't matter: there was still plenty of time. All the same, there was something at the back of Clow's mind, tugging at his nerves. If this was to be done right today, this true test of his magic, it had to be done at the precise moment of solstice, when the earth in all her glory hit perfect alignment with her solar dance partner. Fifteen minutes to midnight. Just fifteen minutes, no time for nervous blunders and second guessing before this small window of opportunity was slammed shut on his fingers. But what did it matter? Fifteen minutes was plenty of time, he convinced himself, if fate was truly on his side. And if not, what could he do for it anyway? He _would_ be shaking hands with the sun tonight. He must. And regardless, some pinking sky didn't matter; it must be only now reaching the twentieth hour, which gave him almost four more before he even had to worry about any of this—and nearly three before he even had to head back to the manor. Despite all his self-encouragement, however, the ever so 'enlightened' wizard couldn't brush of the sickening feeling of unease that was rippling through him. At last giving up, Clow turned to the pub behind him from which the occasional scream and sounds of rustling chairs were echoing across the night. Perhaps, he thought, a little distraction would take his anxious mind off the state of the sky.

Ten o' clock passed by swiftly in a haze of booze, whores, and playing cards. The party in the little pub kept on rocking: the candles all ablaze, and the colorful reflections of wine bottles dancing in an insane routine through the smoke. Men and women, from the squalid to the sophisticated, tore through the room. In again, out again. From the bar to the bedrooms, and every man for himself. Wedding bands were sent flying, and the card games (which Clow Reed had found himself a part of) were growing more furious—with cards sent soaring and winners along with them. The night was at its prime. Bone-ace, Cacho, Five-card Cribbage; the gentlemen dealing the cards came up with one grueling game after another, and none of which Clow, the foreigner, recognized. This little fact, however, didn't bother any of the other chaps, who were tossing cards around merry as you please, breaths hot with old whisky. After all, they reasoned privately, the less an opponent knows about what he's playing, the more money he can lose to his betters! And indeed, hand after hand, Clow Reed found himself folding either his cards or his rapidly-exhausting will to his playmates. Although, it was probably also no help the sorcerer's performance that, in the darkest recesses of his consciousness, something like guilt and an anxious urge to hurl himself from the table and run for home was still tugging away at him. But there was still plenty of time left, Clow continued to reassure himself, he couldn't even _begin_ his 'ritual' until a quarter to twelve. He had to linger: to wait. He had to master these wretched nerves of his! This was what plans were for! This was what spiting his accursed family had been for! And damned if he was going to leave and sit around like—like an expectant father with these nerves!—if the sun wasn't even in position yet!

As ten-thirty dawned, the roof began to shake. Screams and moans alike rattled the air; Elizabeth Rae's business was running full swing. But there was still time, plenty of time, and so the games played on. Now there was being suggested something called La Beck; just another distraction, more mindless games to learn. Most people would be expecting a man such as Clow to have walked away by now with his losing streak, but he had the funds to lose. No manner of losses to his drunken posy could even make a dent in his comfortable lifestyle—he, the last of the noble Reed line! All the same, the frazzled, dark wizard hardly seemed to be his usual aloof self. He was sure his companions in the pub could see the little shake of his hand on his glass of—whatever he had ordered! But they couldn't possibly know—how could they comprehend? Surely they would all attribute it to the money he was losing, or the thick poison he had been drinking. They could not possibly guess the true terror awaiting him in just a short time. But why should he be nervous? There were no more preparations that needed to be done, Clow yelled at his nervous subconscious, just the time in between to waste. Forcing his mind to get a grip on itself, the sorcerer focused all his attention decidedly at the hand he was dealt. If he played his cards right—no pun intended—he might even walk out of this little late-night escapade with some newfound friends in the local inebriates! They certainly seemed to be enjoying his company plenty at the moment, Clow Reed: the mysterious master of Reed manor—who couldn't play to save his life—and came with far too much loose change to be considered legal. Time ticked on. Reed loses again. Perhaps that young lady in the corner would prove a better distraction? No, he didn't have that kind of time.

The clock strung eleven. Midnight was growing closer. Now the game had become One-and -Thirty—better win with 29. Old Elizabeth was on the bar, chairs and fists were beginning to fly! And still Clow Reed sits and plays. The game didn't last long: McCaughey wins with thirty-one... Perhaps that man had one too many rounds of good luck. But then again, from what he'd heard, perhaps the old Irishmen deserved to take them for all they were worth—!

Eleven-o-five. The cacophonous chorus of shattering wine bottles and pounding fists had reached the most fervent pitch. Screams and cries were filling the night. One could hardly hear himself think! McCaughey wins again. For his sake, he'd better hope it was all by fair means. The others were beginning to look mutinous. He couldn't hear himself think…

Eleven-ten. He couldn't stop counting the minutes…

Eleven-fifteen…

Eleven-seventeen…

Eleven-twenty…

This was insane!

By the time eleven-thirty loomed, Clow could hide in the little pub no longer; this party was going to have to reach its climax without him, there was work to be done. Reality came flooding back all at once, and the half-drunk wizard felt his evening of insanity melting away. It was as if the ticking of the little clock in his head had just struck the hour, and had subsequently sucked the bliss of alcohol out of his lifeblood. All around him, smoke was still raging and voices screeched across the evening air, but Clow Reed was no longer a part of them. His awaiting destiny had sobered him up better than the strongest cup of tea. It was time to face fate and see how he really did stand in her opinion. Gathering up his cloak, the resigned sorcerer excused himself from his table where the half-smashed men continued to deal out hands. As he walked to the door, a young couple whizzed past him toward the bedrooms upstairs, fire in their eyes. For the first time in his life, Clow wished feebly that he could be one of them instead of his magical self who was about to go put that beloved power to its ultimate test. As he exited the bar, a group of younger men by the window were finishing their own game of cards, one called Tarot. "Hey, look men!" one of them called out as he waved a large paper card above his head. "I beat you all down with The Sun!"

…

By the time Clow reached the manor, the tiny sliver of the night's moon had reached its peak, casting down an eerie glow over the landscape. How ironic, the wizened gentleman mused, that the moon should be so weak tonight, since in less than an hour it would come to rule the zodiac. That was the special occurrence which made all of this possible: this one night did not belong to the moon. Nerves still pulsing through him like a child waiting to perform, Clow came to rest upon a small clearing at the base of his sloping lawn. The time had come. With a shaking hand, the uneasy sorcerer drew from beneath deep black robes a tiny bronze key. Emblazoned at its head was a large sun, whose long rays stretched out, partially obscuring the moon, set behind them. On this night, when he intended to bring into life the spirit of the sun, it was almost mockingly appropriate. Taking one last deep breath to calm his pounding heart, the magician Clow Reed began his spell.

"K—key which hides the power of Darkness…" the little key began to glow with a soft amber light as it rose from its master's sweaty palm.

"…Reveal thy power before me…" the amber was growing into a brilliant white, igniting the darkness that surrounded it.

"By contract, I, Clow command you!" winds were picking up, and upon the ground, the white beams had spread out into an elaborate glowing circle with the sun at its heart.

"RELEASE!" A blinding light. A mighty swirl of the wind. Clow's staff stood, no longer a small key, but upon a tall bronze arm—taller than the sorcerer himself—with its intricate sun and moon glistening against the similarly starry sky. Now, for the hard part.

If his heart had been pounding before, it was nothing to the light-speed melody it has hammering off now as the bronze staff creased the air. Below in the town, there were church bells ringing. Religion. That was what had started this whole journey for him:_ almost_ _every religion in the world, in one way or another, has believed in a life, a spirit of the sun and the moon. _And for a moment, Clow felt at peace with this world around him, as the bells chimed. And he prayed—silently, inside of his own mind—to whatever god or gods may exist out there in the cosmos, to please let this work.

"_huo, tu, wo zhaohuan!" _

As the words cut across the air, the ground began to shake. The grass around Clow's magic circle ignited into a blaze of orange flames, and all around the loosely scattered dust off the ground was swirling—an array of loose pebbles and rocks whizzing past the magician's ears.

As the world around him dissolved into stone and flame, Clow cried out to the night again, this time in his father's tongue. "Spirit of the sun, I summon you!"

The head of the great bronze staff burst into an all-consuming light, and, forgetting all pride, the experienced magician screamed with all the strength he could muster as a violent pain such as he had never felt before tore at his chest. His power was draining. His ears were ringing, ringing like the bells in the chapel an eternity below. Everything was being torn out of him. He couldn't do this! This had been foolish!He was going to die like this, here on his own front lawn! The force of the magic drain was going to tear all the life there was out of him—!

But the pain began to ease slightly, and through his suffering and the blinding beams, Clow managed to open his eyes ever so slightly. All around him was a world of orange, the glow of the fire and the glow of the magic nearly indistinguishable. Powerful winds were tearing at his flesh and in his growing weakness it was all the once-great sorcerer could do to cling to his staff, desperately compelling every ounce of his magic out of him. Before him it blazed, the most intense of all the lights, a huge condensed ball of orange radiance, shooting rays of luminance out against the dark of night.

And as Clow struggled, in Lightwater below, they could see even through the trees, from the pavilion to the church with the ringing bells, to the little bar where the party still raged like Clow's fire: upon them all the gleaming light shone, like a beacon on the coast. Little children, tucked into their beds, clambered to windows and cracked doors to see the shining brightness. It was as if the sun had risen early above the tiny nowhere town of Lightwater England, and though they bothered not to look on from the bar, or the church, or the little deserted pavilion, for those who could see, it was a sign of wonder, of hope.

Even upon the tiny home and practice of Benjamin Hawkins, golden glow sparkled, trickling through the windows; streaking beams across his cluttered desk and tatty kitchen; shining across the messy bed, where the good doctor lay sleeping, oblivious, unaware.

Through all of his pain and his weakness, his anxiety and his blinded eyes, Clow fought on as he had never done before. He knew now why—why he did not simply give up, walk away right here. The urge to fight on, to accomplish his goal was no longer conscious thought, no longer human fear or juvenile philosophy: this was grit, this was suffering, this was life. Inch by inch the light was fading, fading…Mile by mile his vision was growing clearer. It was no longer an endless sea of amber and orange, but three seas—the golden-rod, the red, and the amber-brown—all glowing together, intertwined.

It appeared in an instant. From the glow of the most brilliant of the gleaming fields, a figure flashed across the velvet sky: a beast emblazoned in orange luminosity, its long fangs stretched to the heavens. And then in an instant, all became clear, and Clow's body moved of its own accord. Deep into his pockets the young warlock's hands plunged—hands that had shaken with Hawkins's so many months ago; hands that had written out all those plans he had seen only this morning; hands that shuffled so many cards that night were finally about to win a game. Two ordinary playing cards were flung to the air, and, with a voice so far from Clow's own, was cried out one, solitary word.

"SEAL!"

An explosion, not unlike what would (many lives later) be related to an atomic blast or a supernova, tore out at the exhausted magician, hurling him backwards, thrusting him off his feet. For another moment in time, Clow's scream pierced the air, and then…

all was silent…

and dark…

and…wet?

Frailty and soreness being thrust aside by their rivals, confusion and curiosity, Clow opened his eyes.

Before him stood perhaps the oddest creature it had been the sorcerer's pleasure to see for a long while. Straightening his askew glasses, a highly perplexed and baffled Clow Reed let his eyes wander, from the long tasseled tail, to fuzzy padded feet. His still-wavering gaze ran down a long orange body, from which two great white wings were strangely erupting, then to a short mane-less neck, and a long pink tongue that was licking him intently. Shaking his head slightly, as if hoping it would change the sight before him, much bewildered magician sat up.

The small lion—did it even qualify as a lion!—stopped licking him and sat back on his hind legs, watching Clow.

"Hi." It whispered in the dopiest of ways.

Clow almost fell back over. He must have gone mad! Surely he was either dead or insane (and either seemed likely at this exact moment)! Unable to formulate intelligible words, Clow merely sat there in the slightly-singed grass, gaping. The beast before him, thankfully, didn't seem to be expecting a response right away, and instead, using his wet black nose, pushed two long sheets of paper toward Clow.

Having no idea of what else to do (and still not entirely sure that he wasn't dead), Clow lifted the pair of thin cards, and held them to his eyes. Though the light around him was limited—it being nearly midnight and the moon scarcely existent at all in the skies above—he could just make out the images inked onto the tarot card-like articles before him. Emblazoned on the front of each was humanoid figure, the one on the right, a fiery demon, obscured from the shoulders down by his smoldering wings; on the left, a mature young woman with a dress of amber crystals. Upon each in turn were written, in both this land's English and Clow's own Chinese, 'The Fiery' and 'The Earthy'. Hardly knowing what else to do, Clow slipped these down deep into the inside pockets of his cloak, and, at last having found his voice, turned to the creature that sat on the grass nearby.

"Who—who are you?"

The great lion's eyes crossed for a moment in deep contemplation, before he responded matter-of-factly "I have no idea!" as if this were the most brilliant and informative answer in the world. Clow sighed, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"But I do know that _you_," he indicated to Clow with a large grin. "Are Clow Reed, and those cards of yours are beneath _my_ power." He said the last in the strangest of ways, as if contrasting his own solar oriented power against another's, not present. Clow brushed this off for the moment.

"You're their protector?"

"And yours." The large beast responded, still smiling. "I can help you control those powers, you know, keep them in those little paper packages."

Clow decided it better not to press the subject any further; he was tired and sore in so many places, and didn't want to bother working through any other kind of complex thoughts tonight.

"I have to call you something…" Clow muttered. '_a guardian of something precious…keeping powers locked away…'_ The magician's half-conscious mind wandered off into the far off realms of Greek and Roman mythology…

"Cerberus." He whispered. "Will that work?"

"Could do a lot worse." The lion mused good-naturedly, in his squeaky, childish voice. Then, without further ado, he helped his confused and drained master to his feet, and the odd couple wandered up the long, winging path to the manor.

_AN: __＊四章へつづく＊__(A play on the ending to nearly all CLAMP's chapters in CCS) To be continued in chapter four. I have two little foot notes to add first before everyone goes down and presses the little review button—like I know all of you kind and considerate people will (Please?). First of all, all of the games mentioned were really played in the 17th century, including Tarot which really is played with a deck of Tarot cards. Secondly, is there anyone out there that speaks Chinese? I realized when I went to write down Clow's little spell earlier, that I don't know any Chinese (I know __**Japanese**__, but I don't think that helps any), or at least not enough to write out even as simple a sentence that. with the help of a bunch of teenage 'translators' I have gotten the above translation, but since the entire time they were discussing having to have it checked by their father, I cannot guarantee its accuracy. Please do review, PLEASE?_

NEW AN: A slightly older and wiser version of myself has just edited and improved this chapter in an attempt to make it somewhere near the quality of those that follow it. I will also be running through the next three (soon to be two) chapters for the same reasons, so keep your eyes open.


	4. Summer Days

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

_AN: Cookie Monster-_

_Not quite a crack chapter, that one'll be probably chapter eight, that one's just going to be for fun. This chapter was more of a transition/filler chapter, but it was still fun to write, and a good break for me from all the serious stuff._

**Part two: Cerberus**

**Chapter 2, Summer Days**

All was silent as far as one's eyes could see or his ears could hear. All around the little English village, which in only a few hours would be positively bustling with noise and industry, now, in the early dusked morning, whispered through her streets only the soft sound of nothingness. Even the wind through hills, on this morn, did not whistle its usual tune. And even the birds in the trees, and the rushing white river rested their voices, to lend it out for the tranquility of the newly born dawn. Across the faded violet sky, an artist's brush had streamed across the air, dying it bright shades of gold and brilliant pinks. From the stunning view of Reed manor, it was a picturesque scene of the harmony and peace that only fell upon the Earth when all of her creatures lay to rest.

It was boring!

More than boring, it was downright painful! All this _quiet_ and _beauty_, it could drive a man to madness!

Cerberus Reed was most likely the only living thing, from the people below right down to the simple amoeba, conscious and able to see this lovely scene, and conversely, probably also the only living thing on Earth (with the possible exception of the amoeba), who couldn't marvel at its beauty. Most men would think, having full knowledge of the beast (which for now was none but Clow Reed), that Cerberus in his solar glory would simply love the mornings with the sun barley risen. And that might have been true if…

…Well, if it wasn't so gosh darn boring!

It had been three days now since the solstice had passed, and the sign of cancer now rained over the astrological sky. Yuk! Cerberus turned up his nose in disgust at the very thought. Cancer was the sign of the _moon_. If there was one thing that bugged this fellow more than Lightwater's quiet and tranquil mornings, it was their 'dark moonlight nights'. What it was about lunar power specifically that annoyed him, Cerberus didn't quite know. He supposed it was because 'it was his polar opposite' and 'in conflict with his own energies' or whatever all of that philosophical mumbo-jumbo was that Clow was always spouting. But it was more than that, this whole 'moon' thing was personal! Something about the whole deal of the 'dark night' and the 'sparkling moonbeams' with their _radiant light_ that made all of those foolish young people hold each other close and all those dead poets babble on in their colorful language of _beauty_ and _love_ and all of that other mush-gushy nonsense! Hmph! Radiant moonlight! The only thing anyone ever had to say about staring at the sun was "Ahh! My eyes!!" Yes, it was certain! Cerberus Reed may not have known many things upon arriving here in England, like his name, or the function of a sock, but if there was one thing he could be certain of one-hundred percent it was that he couldn't stand quiet mornings, and above all, he hated the bloody moon!

…

The sun in the sky had developed into little more than a large orange ball when Clow Reed's peaceful slumber, as well as the calming silence of the manor, was shattered.

"Hey! The sun's up!!"

Down the hardwood floor of the upstairs hallway, bounding footsteps echoed off the walls.

"Hey! Hey, Clow! Look, the sun's up! Come on! Time to get outta' bed! The sun's up!!"

In the three days that had passed since the twentieth of June, Clow had still not gotten used to these strange awakenings. Every morning, as soon as he could legitimately claim that the sun had risen, down the hall and into his master's bedroom, Cerberus came running—quite loudly—and stood, shoving at Clow until the man sat up and got out of his bed. Equally as hard to adapt to was the fact that it _was_ so difficult for the sorcerer to haul himself out of bed anymore. A few weeks ago, Clow Reed could rise with the earliest of the birds, but since the solstice, it felt more as if his energy was draining farther and farther every day.

Sitting up straight, Clow glanced to his right where Cerberus sat, grinning intently up at him, and swishing his tail to and fro: altogether giving the impression of a loyal village dog rather than a majestic lion. _'Perhaps his lunar twin will be the majestic one.'_ Ever since he had met the strange creature, the mind of Europe's newest magician had often drifted off to the lunar spirit, opposite Cerberus. More than once at mealtimes, when Clow's 'guardian' was more than preoccupied with whatever 'fascinating piece of culinary splendor' (how easy he was to please) had been placed in front of him, the man himself would let his tired mind paint for him fanciful pictures of any number of creatures that he might bring to life that December. So far Clow's imagination had been unable to wander far from using Cerberus as a guide, and as such, all of the wizard's fantasies had been feline in nature: tigers, panthers, leopards... and every last one of them had presented the same color-scheme. Of all the large cats that Clow had imagined for his lunar guardian, no matter how exotically marked in nature, had all been pure white; also, as the devious mind played, the great beasts had been lavishly adorned with glistening sapphires, and brilliant shades of blue. Why Clow seemed to associate the color blue with the moon, the magician had no idea, but it mattered little. No matter how much he daydreamed, it would be another sixth months, the winter solstice, before anyone in Reed manor would be able to lay eyes on Cerberus's twin.

"Clo-ow! Oi, Clow, you in there?"

The magician blinked, snapping out of his trance. Cerberus had moved from the floor, and was now standing, his front paws on the bed, glaring up at the man before him with curious eyes. "It's alright, I'm fine Cerberus." Clow smiled, and as his companion returned all four feet to the floor, he stood up and walked to the door. "Come along, I'll show you something new for breakfast today."

"YAY!!" bolting out the door ahead of his master, the golden beast called down the echoing hall. "Come on, I'll race ya' there!"

…

It was the most beautiful thing ever conceived by mortal man.

There before him they sat in all their holy golden glory, a perfect mound of them all stacked one on top of the other. Down the little edges sweet and yet sour ambrosia dripped, winding its way into every pore, and then gathering together in a clut-ish fashion on the clean white surface below. They loomed, tauntingly, singing from their amber depths the most seductive of songs, and one that only the ears of a true lover could pick up and decipher into their tantalizing words. Oh, but approach gently great romancer, for an un-earthly beauty such as this must be respected, not to be man-handled by the rough and the senseless who had no passion in their hearts. Altogether they were the most glorious of all things in Cerberus's sparkling eyes, the unspeakable treasure that man would one day name …

the 'pan-cake'…

Every morning this scene occurred in which Clow merely sat back and chuckled. It was like nothing the somewhat aged magician had ever seen: the love life in his little lion's eyes as he set before him a new, and to Cerberus, exciting breakfast. For a being of such untold energy that he could practically live his whole life without getting anywhere near the stuff, food seemed to be Cerberus's passion in life. Today's flapjack recipe had come courtesy of Hawkins, bachelor to bachelor. It was actually the first in a long time that Clow had seen his friend Hawkins since their 'discussion' prior to the summer solstice. Sure, the two had seen each other in town a couple of times, but at each meeting there had been an overwhelming air of awkwardness that forced any conversations to be short and restricted primarily to the weather and equally casual topics. Then quite suddenly and out of the blue Hawkins had sought his old pal Reed out the other day, and the two of them sat in their usual place at the pavilion in the center of town for quite some time in some old fashioned, good-natured conversation. It was as if no time had passed in between, as if that long ago conversation in which Clow had revealed his master plan had been only yesterday…or perhaps as if it had never happened at all. Regardless of the spontaneity, Clow was simply happy to have his old friend the doctor back again, perhaps in time he could let Hawkins in on that reality of that old discussion of theirs, the sorcerer thought as he watched Cerberus liberally attack the pile of hotcakes before him, just perhaps…

…

This day of Monday, twenty-third June carried out like so many of the others had since Cerberus had come into Clow's life. Having been so successful in bringing the solar beast into existence, Clow was no longer devoting all his time to careful plans and obsessive studying for the lunar spirit. Perhaps when December drew closer, Clow would look back over the tomes of old writings and diagrams that he had made so long ago in China, but for now, it was a brand new day. In only the little time they'd had so far, the mismatched tag-team had already begun to turn the unkempt hunk of stone that had been Reed manor for the past nine months into something that was starting to resemble a home. On their first day, the two had opened up the sealed chambers of the west wing to a flurry of dust, on their second day they had run through as many of the rooms as their stamina would allow (which, surprisingly for Clow, wasn't as long as it he'd have thought.) with a feather duster, and some all-purpose polish that Hawkins had recommended after seeing Clow's dusty hair the day before. That had been how Cerberus found his bedroom, an old sealed off room that faced the eastern hills: a little shine and a snowdrift of dust later, and it passed the fuzzy animal's test of habitability. Today's mission was located out on the front lawn. Raking away all of the leaves, which, by the time Clow and his partner in crime had settled themselves down under a small shady fell down from the forest, took up half of their sunlit hours, to say nothing of the weeds and the overgrown ivy. tree overlooking the lake, the sun had almost finished setting.

"Maybe we should plant a garden." Clow thought aloud smiling contently, his back leaning against the little tree above him.

"Do you know how to garden?" Cerberus asked, stretched out across his master's lap.

"Not a clue. I don't suppose you do?"

"Clow," the great beast replied almost sarcastically, "How many times do we have to go over the list of things I don't know?"

Clow laughed, throwing his head back. Above him, the sky was bright with an array of pink and orange, of red and violet. Though it held neither the silence nor the tranquility of the morning dawn, this sunset, Clow thought, was good enough for him, or for any man after a hard day's work. "Perhaps some petunias." He suggested sporadically. "I've always liked petunias. We could use all of those lovely colors, a little pink, and yellow, maybe some purple…"

"Not purple."

Cerberus sat up, looking solidly at Clow. "I hate purple."

Clow chuckled slightly. "Why purple?"

"Because," Cerberus puffed out his chest importantly and raised his voice to the sky. "Because purple is a bad color."

It was everything Clow had to keep from loosing his composure altogether in fits of laughter. "Purple is the rarest color we can produce, Cerberus, the color of the wealthy in this country."

Cerberus shook his head insistently. "Not for me. I don't know why, but purple is defiantly a bad color for me." The creature looked off into the distant heavens, his yellow eyes wide. "Purple is the color of untimely death…and—and _pain_!

"It's cold…"he shuddered comically, now deep into his hypnotic rant. "and _merciless_, and—Ahhh! Don't let him shish kabob me!!" Without warning, Cerberus dove beneath his master's cloak, hiding from the non-existent threat. Clow felt that he should have reacted to this…but suddenly, he felt so sleepy…

The fading sky and the newly cleaned lawn were swimming in and out of focus…Why…why were…

Cerberus's voice was calling out to him from somewhere distant, but it didn't make sense any more.

"Why…what is…?"

But there was no time for finishing sentences, no time for laughing, not when everything was swimming…

swimming…

dark.

Across the lake, the sun set.

_AN: Look I made a cliffy on the cliffy! (Clow and Kero-chan were on a cliff :P) That was such a fun chapter to write! I loved getting to do some of it from Cerberus's POV because it's just ever so FUN! Totemo tanoshii da yo! It gets serious again next chapter, though (although this chapter was kind of serious near the end). this also marks the end of section 2, the next is Section 3: Yue, which is also about 2 chapters, but after that the sections get longer. Please review this chapter! I'm dying for reviews, although, Cookie, I love you for reviewing almost all of my chapters so far. (You're a good girl, you get some fan service. :P) I had so much fun writing this chapter that I got it up quick. Now my goal is to get the next 2 chapters up by the 30th...actualy...mabye _on _the 30th! -evil laughter-_


	5. The Blue Moon: Part One

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Three: Yue**

_Seventeen centuries after the birth of Christ, sixteen years since the great plague of London, nine months after the storm that shook Tom's bar, little over a week into the sign of Cancer, ten days after Cerberus came into the world, beneath the light of the second Flower Moon, above the banks of the great lake, the balance of the world was restored… upon the wings of a lunar child, and the water, wind, and trees ._

**Chapter 1, The Blue Moon- Part 1**

"Clow."

Everything was so dark…so dark. Was it nighttime? The sun had been setting…hadn't it? It was so hard to remember…maybe in the morning…

"Clow!"

Where was all the grass…and the lake? He was by the lake, wasn't he?

"Clow! Come on!"

Cerberus! Cerberus had been with him! But…where was he?

"Cerberus!"

"Over here!"

Suddenly there was more than unending dark, and Clow could see. All around much was still blackness, but there before him sat his companion, Cerberus, and at the same moment, Clow realized, he could now see himself. It seemed so odd that he hadn't noticed before, that seeing nothing…had also meant himself.

"Hurry up!" the little dot that was Cerberus called. (had he always been so far?)But something still didn't seem right, and even as Clow drew closer, he had the distinct impression that he was experiencing anything but reality. It was almost like a dream… the magician thought vaguely.

As he approached his recently obtained friend, more things became clear to Clow. He noticed that Cerberus was not simply sitting upon the nonexistent ground (the instant he thought of this, stone tile appeared from the shadows), but instead was perched high in the air in one of the little baskets of a peculiarly decorated balance. Upon closer inspection, Clow Reed began to recognize some of the busy patterns of lines that streaked across the enormous apparatus. There was his homeland of China across the supporting beam, and at Cerberus's feet he could see a fragment of him new home: England. The entire balance was printed with the world—or at least the world as it was known: the distant lands of America, drawn upon the second basket, were largely blank.

"What are you doing up there, Cerberus?" Clow called.

Cerberus merely laughed, and bounced up and down in his Earth-printed scale. The gigantic mechanism began to sway dangerously, joints groaning at the strain. Cerberus's little basket was being dragged down by his weight, its empty fellow slowly rising into the darkness above. For some unknown reason, Clow was suddenly struck by fear as the scales began to unbalance.

"Cerberus, get down from there!" But the oversized cat didn't respond: just kept smiling meekly at his master below. Clow's feet moved of their own accord, and before he could give it even a first thought (let alone a second), the sorcerer found himself beneath the Europe-plastered scale, pushing with all his might to keep it upright. It was far too difficult a job, the weight of the entire structure bearing down upon him, and the man knew in his heart of hearts that it wouldn't last forever. In all his strain and toil, Clow managed to squint through his watering eyes into the nothingness beyond. Vague and blurred, he could just barely make out the form of another creature in the distance.

"It won't hold!" a young male voice called out. "It won't hold until the solstice!"

"I can't leave the world at an imbalance!" Clow screamed to the night, still straining with all his might to not only support the weight on his shoulders, but also to stretch his eyes in the direction of his newly discovered company. "It can't survive that! It has to hold! "

"It won't! You can't hold the balance of the entire Earth together for that long! It will destroy you!"

The weakening Clow could just barely make out the other's form, glowing in the darkness with a concealing white light, 'I'm not supposed to know his identity.'

"Then help me!" he screamed with a desperate air. "You can restore the balance, you can counter Cerberus!"

"I can't!!"

The voice was so pleading, as desperate as the man himself. 'who are you?' Clow's last view of the scene was of thick iron bars, surrounding the brilliant creature that could save him, if only…he were free like Cerberus. Longingly, determinedly, Clow stared straight into the depths of the iron prison and the white light shining from within them.

"I will."

In the blaze of white there was a small flash of color…

…violet

"I'll save you."

"Clow?" rising from ground, the real Cerberus rushed to his master's bedside. "Clow? Can you hear me?" The man at last seemed to be coming back, back to his home—to Reed manor.

"I'll…save…"

There wasn't endless darkness anymore, but nor was there clarity. Everything was swirling in a warped sort of pattern of grey and blue and…orange. Groggily reaching to his nearby bedside table, Clow pulled on his glasses. The large orange blob which had been Cerberus came into focus as he hurled himself against the weary wizard in a big bear hug. "You're awake!" he cried. Reality was flooding back, the lake, the sunset, and something about…violet…

"How—how long…?"

"A good several hours." Cerberus responded, maneuvering himself off of his friend and master and onto the empty space of mattress beside him. "What happened? You just suddenly collapsed and—"

"None of it matters right now." Clow responded hurriedly, swinging himself out of the bed so quickly that it took the beast on his left a moment to react.

"Hey, where are you—?" Clow was already out the door. Leaping off the bed, Cerberus chased after him. "Where are we going?" He panted after catching back up.

"My study." Came the hurried response. "We've got a problem, Cerberus."

The pair turned a sharp corner, and headed rapidly down another hallway that led toward the south-west end of their enormous home.

"Whada ya mean?" Cerberus shouted, bounding across the hard wood to keep pace with quickly running man ahead of him.

"You may be getting a younger sibling far sooner than I thought!"

"Huh!?"

At last arriving at a heavy wood door, Clow drew a set of black metal keys from his pocket and hurled them into the lock so hard that they might have broken. The heavy door flung open with such agility that it nearly hit a stunned Cerberus in the nose.

"Clow, what the hell is going on?" Cerberus yelled, avoiding the door and slamming it shut behind him with considerable force. He turned to look at his master's back, somewhat accusingly, and to his surprise, the man stopped, sighed, and collapsed into a little wooden chair that sat before his newly re-organized desk.

"I believe that I have made…a miscalculation, Cerberus," Clow forced out. "When I set my plans to create you."

"Wha—what are you saying?!" Cerberus yelled back fearfully. Clow stared into his companion's deep yellow eyes. He saw all the terror, all the fear, brought about by all of this; Cerberus was such a trusting creature, his eyes hid nothing…he knew not why there should be something to hide. In those trusting eyes he could see that this problem was not his alone. This wasn't a one-man show anymore, not a drama to be filled with angst and played out before an audience, there was now another's feelings that Clow had to respect. The sorcerer took a long deep breath, trying to rid himself of any haste, any mania that his dream may have brought.

That dream…

Ever since Cerberus's creation, Clow had felt weaker, less strong than before, could that be perhaps—as his dream suggested—because he was holding the world together?

"I believe that, by creating you, Cerberus, and those…those cards, fire and earth, we have unknowingly started a chain reaction of sorts…a…" This was all so much at once, and it was almost too much for Clow, a man stepping out onto new and uncharted magical territory, to bear.

"Like the housework?"

"What?" Clow broke out of his internal struggle, and looked up at Cerberus. The beast was now sitting on the floor beside the doorway, calmer, more collected than he had been now that Clow was starting to talk sense: Calmer, in fact, than Clow himself felt at this particular moment.

"It's like the housework, what you were saying. You start a project, you have to finish it; you clean one room, you gotta' clean 'em all, or else what's the point? You can't cut out on a project half way through, can't just leave it for later when you feel like cleaning again. Just not how it works."

Unsteady and uncertain, Clow Reed was almost dumbfounded by the solar being's sudden crude, but undeniable wisdom. It was a side of this great beast, which he would one day recognize as the solar guardian of his 'Clow Cards', that would show itself a little more in the years to follow. Indeed, when looking back on his life, Clow would consider those years that followed this month of June 1681 to be a time when he himself…neglected his wisdom. But for now, in the earliest hours of the 24th, wisdom was at its prime.

"That—that's it exactly, Cerberus." Clow responded to the beast's metaphor at last. "By—by creating you, Cerberus, and these elemental powers which you guard, we have put the world at an imbalance."

"How?" Cerberus asked, a slightly defensive tone now coming into his voice, as if he was expecting distasteful news to follow. "And what's all this talk of 'siblings' and all that?"

With a prang of guilt, Clow realized that in his joy after Cerberus's successful 'birth', he had never bothered to enlighten his creation, his son in a sense, on the rest of this 'master plan'. He had never bothered to say that while Cerberus's soul was the long worshiped spirit in the sun, there was also his counterpart: The soul within the moon. Of course he hadn't! He had thought there would be more time for those kinds of things! Six months…before they had to talk business.

"Cerberus," Clow began, sliding off his desk chair, and joining his 'child' on the hard wood floor. "Besides you, there is, I believe, one other—your polar opposite, and yet…"

"My twin."

Clow was completely aghast. How could he possibly—?

Cerberus's eyes wondered, almost dreamily toward the window on the far end of the room through which a gibbous of the moon was shining brightly. "The child of the moon…"

"That…that's absolutely right…absolutely.

"Do you understand, Cerberus? There can be no sun without the moon, not fire without water… I knew all of this before, knew that it would create an imbalance in the world to bring each of you down into life separately, but I thought that it would hold—the balance—until the next solstice, the winter solstice."

"That'll never do!" Cerberus, still slightly entranced cried, turning his eyes from the moon and back onto Clow. "But how... how can we possibly… You need the winter solstice, Clow!" (It appeared Cerberus's strange trance was breaking.) "When you made me…you collapsed, Clow! And that was on the Summer Solstice, the day of the sun, and it still took all of your strength!"

Clow, still sitting upon the floor, sighed, relieved in a way that for some unknown reason…Cerberus understood him, but now coming to face worse stresses. Cerberus was right, he did need the winter solstice, he needed lunar power to be at its peak.

"I don't know…I don't know 'how'…" Making his decision, the sorcerer stood up. He **was** going to finish what he started, he had cleaned one room and now it was time for the other. Somehow he had to find a day in the near future in which the moon's power could equal that of the longest night; equal the might of the winter solstice…

…And then Clow remembered something. He remembered something very special about June 1681 in the lunar calendar, late June: the time which these Englishmen considered to be ruled by the sun-sign Cancer. Cancer: the sign ruled by the moon…

"There is a way!"

"Do you really think so?"

"Maybe." Clow rushed to his clean desk, immediately tearing out of the drawers' old charts and papers "But I'm going to need your help; I'm going to need you, Cerberus!"

Immediately the mighty lion rushed to his master's side, in this moment as determined and hopeful as the great magician who now believed he could resolve their new-found problem.

"We'll have about a week!" Clow stammered out excitedly. "I think we can hold off a little imbalance until then, don't you?

"Gosh, Cerberus! I think I can do this! I'm going to take the soul of the moon, and I'm going to bring her down into flesh and blood!

"…Or 'him'." He added as an afterthought.

…

Six days flew by in a flash. It seemed to the inhabitants of Reed manor as if there couldn't be enough time to prepare…prepare for the abrupt change in plans that had occurred almost a week ago. As the moon grew in the night sky, Clow's power continued to wane. Each day that passed it became more and more obvious to the man and his 'sidekick', Cerberus, that the former's strength would never hold out much beyond the 30th, the day that was set to be the birth of Cerberus's lunar twin.

The morning of the dreaded day, the sun did not rise into its usual majestic calm that so annoyed Clow's great lion. Cerberus's footsteps did not bound down the echoing hallways to pounce awake their master. There was no joyful laughter or loving play between theoretic father and son in the far western chamber which Clow called his bedroom. There was only the day, looming like a dark storm cloud, to meet them.

Cerberus gloomily twirled his clawed finger across the surface of his toast, absentmindedly making swirling ridges and valleys on its crusty surface. His eggs and fried tomatoes, normally long gone this far into the morning, sat neglected and icy upon his plate. Clow sat across the table, his morning cup of tea equally as untouched, trying with all his might to focus upon the same long notes that he had poured over before Cerberus's birth ten days earlier. Desperate though he was to be sufficiently prepared for his job tonight, the magician's exhausted and over-run nerves were refusing to allow him to take in any of the messy characters trailing vertically down the long yellow paper. Besides that there was no point! He had red over the same notes and plans perhaps twenty times in the past few days, if they had any more useful information within them, it was unlikely they'd help any now. It was all Clow could do to let his eyes wander half-heartedly among the spidery hanzi, taking in a word here, a sentence there, just enough to give himself the much needed illusion of actually doing something!

"You realize this is insane, don't you?"

Clow glanced up from his 'studying' to meet Cerberus's golden eyes, alight with so much worry and fear as they had been on the morning of the 24th, an eternity ago it seemed. Clow sighed, taking off his glasses to massage his tired eyes. "Perhaps, Cerberus, but this is the best we could possibly hope for, you know that as well as I do." Leaning back on his little wooden chair like a lazy aristocrat on cushy couch, Clow continued to repeat, for what was beginning to feel like the thousandth time, the details of his and Cerberus's less than brilliant plan. "Today is the blue moon: the second full moon to occur within this month, and the peak of lunar energy for the period of the next two-and-a-half years until the next one." Clow recited his dry facts with little enthusiasm; no excitement as he had had six morns ago, nor any apprehension. These were just the facts, and nothing upon this Earth was going to change them. Truth be told, they were beginning to become rather boring. "According to the western zodiac, this time of the year is ruled by Cancer, the crab, and Cancer as you know, Cerberus, is the sign of the moon."

Clow sat back up in his chair, smiling dreamily with an airy sort of attitude about him. "That's all we've got. No legends or promises, just the bloody moon. Maybe it'll work; maybe it won't, but…" Clow chuckled, "at least it'll be a hell of a show! "

The 'great magician' Clow Reed stood up from his small rickety dining table, and stretched his sore limbs. After all the days of exhaustion and stress and draining power that he had felt recently, the man was beginning to feel at least twice his own age! Now this whole situation just seemed something to laugh about. Laugh because there was nothing else to do but laugh. What else could he do, cry and feel sorry for himself? Laugh because Cerberus was right: this whole thing was wonderfully insane!

"I wonder what she'll look like, this spirit of the moon, once I bring her into life tonight." Clow called whimsically as he walked slow laps about the cluttered kitchen.

"That's another thing!" Cerberus grumbled, heaving himself out of this chair and following after Clow's ankles. "What's with all this 'she' stuff? What makes you think the moon is a girl?"

The old wizard had to struggle to hold in another surge of laughter as he looked down at Cerberus's stiff, and yet somehow pouting face. Clow stopped his pacing to lean on the counter in a mock of deep contemplation. "I suppose it's just an old story we used to tell in China, but go on, Cerberus; you think you're going to have a brother?"

"I don't know." The large beast complained. "But I do know one thing: I don't wanna have to share a bedroom with a girl!

"That would be just awful!" he shuddered. "with all the ribbons and bows …and pink! " Cerberus stuck out his tongue in disgust. "I'm not sure I could survive it…"

Secretly Clow couldn't help but agree with Cerberus on some level. A female presence in the house, though welcome to the long-time bachelor, could cause certain problems. "I wonder what he'll look like, then." Clow corrected himself. As much as he loved Cerberus's dramatic moments like this, it was a question that was weighing heavily on the magician's mind. Despite its busy work during the day, at night, his mind was still littered with fantasies of majestic feline creatures with snow-white pelts and glittering sapphire eyes.

"Purple!" Cerberus retorted bluntly.

'Purple…Why does Cerberus keep mentioning purple?' Clow wondered to himself, recalling his prophetic dream of many nights past…a flash of purple…Cloud the mysterious young man in his dream have been more than just a symbolic messenger…could he somehow be related to all this moon nonsense?

"… a name…" Clow muttered after a long silence.

"Huh?" Cerberus froze mid-sentence, half-way through a mumbled rant on the color purple.

"How am I going to come up with another name?"

"You're worried about that?! You must be at your limit, Clow, you're starting to act too weird to tolerate."

"Perhaps I'll call him 'Orthros'; he will be the brother of 'Cerberus' after all."

Before Cerberus could respond, Clow was halfway out the kitchen door. For some reason he felt like going to the village, maybe he could even see his old friend, Hawkins.

…

The sun set and night fell in nothing flat. Unlike ten days past when the hours seeped to tick by with agonizing sloth, today on 30 June they flew by like contestants in a horse race (and Clow was more than unsure of his bet). Before his mind knew what was happening, the magician's feet found his boots, his arms dragged on his cloak, and his fidgeting hands released his staff. The time was thirty-six minutes past the twenty-second hour. The moon would be rising soon. Clow walked down his front lawn like a prisoner on his way to the chopping block, Cerberus followed solemnly at his heels. There seemed no laughter left in the world; all of those papers ignored in the morning now appeared, at this moment, to surely be hiding one more bit of information—they had to be! Clow arrived at his chosen spot with a few moments to spare. He was not at the base of his lawn this time, by the forest where Cerberus had been born a week-and-a-half ago. No, this time, as Clow prepared to bring a second life into the world, he stood upon the sloping cliff overlooking the lake, beneath the little tree where he and his partner in crime had sat after a long days work…seven days previous. How much this exhausted wizard wanted to live in that moment forever…the last few minutes he and Cerberus had all to themselves without any thoughts of the creature of the moon or the other two elements…

"Clow," Cerberus's voice was feeble—like an observer watching over a man's deathbed. At least, that was how it appeared to Clow Reed, who felt very much as if he were as good as dead. "Clow," The beast started again, "It's—it's nearly that time."

Ten-forty-six, that was the time…the time when this had to all be over by—one way or another.

"I suppose you're right." Clow muttered back, his voice seemed to suddenly be failing him. Before he started his spell to activate the elements, however, he took one last look at his loyal companion, his friend—his son. "Cerberus, if—if all of this were to fail… you know that I love you—very much?"

Cerberus tried to force a laugh. "Yeah, I know, I know. You're gonna make it through this, Clow, it's gonna be alright."

The sorcerer nodded weakly, and then turned his eyes toward the sparkling lake beyond. Upon the ground, he placed an array of ordinary tarot cards, ready and waiting for the elemental powers that would be slammed into them. Taking a deep breath, he raised his staff in the air, his elaborate magic circle gleaming at his feet, and began his spell.

"Shui, feng, wo zhaohuan!"

All around the cliff, winds began to swirl wildly; Cerberus was forced to flee farther from his master for fear of being trapped within their vortex. The waters in the lake far below began to churn, crashing heavy waves onto the banks at its edge; from its heart, a huge funnel shot out into the sky and swirled with the wind around Clow's circle, enveloping the sorcerer within its cocoon and spraying Cerberus and the surrounding area with gallons of water. But that wasn't all, as far as the eye could see; strange storm clouds were gathering in, the mighty winds were whipping all across the forest, and a torrent of leaves were flying past the cliff like missiles.

"Clow!" Cerberus tried to scream over the rushing wind and roaring water, "Clow, the trees!!" But too far along to stop, even if he could have heard Cerberus's shriek, Clow cried out his second spell.

"SPIRIT OF THE MOON, I SUMMON YOU!!"

As before, the head of Clow's long staff burst out in blinding light. Once again, the magician felt his weak body being ripped apart, but this time, he did not scream, he was prepared for this. The pain would subside, the frailty, the agony as his power was torn from him, would all subside…any moment now…it would all go away…

But the pain did not end, more and more of Clow's power was being pulled out of him. 'something's wrong…why—' but the magician never got to finish his thought. In that instant, an all new and thrice as terrible wave of torturous pain swept over him. All magic, all life was being torn out of him! This time, Clow's scream pierced the air, and shook the night as much as the heavy winds.

"CLOW!!" Cerberus cried, and without thinking, dashed toward the expanding white light that now encased his master. Another scream pierced the air. A second brilliant light exploded upon the point of contact Cerberus had made with the lunar energy. The beast himself was hurtled backwards by the force, colliding with one of the boulders that lined the cliff's edge. He would know no more of the trials of this night. Two of the carefully placed tarot cards burst into life at the heart of the reaction, and then fell again to the ground, unnoticed.

"CERBERUS!!" Clow shouted through his cracked voice as he watched his creation slump lifelessly to the ground. But he had little time to worry about poor Cerberus now, for another huge surge of energy was being sucked from his helpless body. He was going to die here, the wizard thought as his shaking hands gripped for dear life to his great bronze staff. The Moon was going to steal away all the life there was in him. This would be the end…

Just as Clow was giving up, the blinding white light began to congeal. Streams of pale violet light began to shoot from the solidifying mass of energy. Beside it, glowing balls of blue, white, and green also began to conjugate. Not knowing how much longer he could hold on, Clow cried "SEAL!!"

In a blinding show, the smaller balls of energy vanished into the paper cards below them. The strain upon him at last beginning to subside, Clow peered through his watering eyes. The wind had stopped, the water was gone, and before him an un-earthy figure glowed in heavenly tones of violet and white. He was not yet solid… nor was he shapeless energy, but he was familiar to the ravaged sorcerer.

"The night is not over yet, magician Clow Reed." He whispered, the same voice from Clow's dream of many nights ago.

"Who…are you?" Clow uttered, exhaustion and unbearable weakness finally beginning to overtake him.

"You know who I am."

"…Yue…" The sorcerer muttered, the name for the moon in Chinese.

With one last burst of Clow's power, it was all completed. Everything became solid, physical, flesh and blood and unbearable weakness, and like Cerberus, Clow knew no more.

* * *

_A/N -collapses- There you have it, my longest chapter yet! Sorry it's so long, but I couldn't bear to cut it in half! I've had the plan written out for this chapter and the next one for so long, and I didn't want to change it. Please review, PLEASE!! I worked so hard on this chappie...please review it! By the way, as usual, those circumstances really did exist in the year 1681._


	6. The Blue Moon: Part Two

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Three: Yue**

_A/N: Here's you fan service, Cookie! :P By the way, ther are some CxY implications in this chapter, but don't worry, this isn't primairily a CxY fic. But keep in mind guys, CxY is cannon, so I've got to show some of it. I'm planning on making it more like Clow's struggle **not** to be attracted to Yue, who he sees, like Cerberus, as his son. That should work for everybody, weither you like CxY or not. Please bear with me!_

**Chapter 2, The Blue Moon-Part 2**

Everything hurt. It felt as if he had spent the entire day in heavy aerobic exercise! What-what had happened? Slowly, Clow tried to open his eyes. As the world came into a shifty focus, he realized that he was laying face-down in the grass. Forcing with his sore muscles to roll over on his back, the magician noticed that the sky above showed neither the soft blue of midday, nor the orange flecked sky of early morning, but a deep velvety black. It was still nighttime. Above him, the great glowing moon hung over in the sky. That's right! The blue moon! Before he could even try to sit up, five long pieces of paper came flying at the confused wizard, obstructing his view of—well, _anything_! Each was etched with a picture of a young woman. Clow read the titles on each: The Watery and The Windy, he had been expecting those. There was also one of a leafy imp-like creature, The Wood. '_Wood! I should have thought of Wood, one of the __**five**__ elements!'_ However, the most interesting ones of the group of cards were two floating side-by-side to Clow's immediate right. Emblazoned upon these were two similar looking women, one in black, and one in white, both with long flowing hair, though the blonde's fell in curls. The lighter of the pair wore across her chest a painted sunburst, and in her hands held a glowing sun, and floating cloud. Her counterpart was adorned instead by an array of crystals, ('_odd,' _Clow thought) and carried a crescent moon, and a six-pointed star. _'The sun and the moon…'_Stowing the cards in his pocket of examine properly later, a worn out Clow Reed staggered to his feet. Something here wasn't right, but the wizard's mind was still in a fog…he couldn't think properly.

Here were the cards… the magician tried to logic… They had been here last time too…Cerberus had brought them to him… Stupidly, Clow glanced around, expecting some other large feline to come prowling up to him. Needless to say, none appeared. Where _was _his lunar guardian? If the cards were here—and they were—then the 'procedure' must have succeeded…

Not truly knowing where he was going, Clow staggered off toward the farther end of the cliff…

…and his heart stopped.

Upon the grassy ground at the cliff's edge lay not a large furry beast like Cerberus, but a young man around the age of fifteen or sixteen with long silver tresses and an enormous pair of feathery wings. Against the blackness of the night beyond, he seemed to glow with an un-earthly light. Feet, apparently with a mind of their own, moved in closer to the delicate creature, and upon shaking legs, knelt Clow down beside him in the soft grass.

He was so…so human…

Clow's heart was beginning to do back flips within his chest, and for the second time in these past few weeks, the sorcerer found himself remembering his hot and bothered teenage years. His mind did not seem to be working properly, none of his logic, his rational thought seemed to be in play anymore—as if someone had simply flicked them off. Arms unsteady and shaking, he reached out and gently swept the delicate young man partially up into them.

He was so human…and so _beautiful_…

Yue was wearing nothing all down his frail body, not that it mattered any: yards upon yards of gleaming white strands swiftly wove their way hither and thither, actively protecting their owner's dignity—hiding him away from unworthy eyes. In a dreamlike trance, Clow ran his hands through the silvery hair. His fingers never caught, nor felt _any_ kind of resistance, as they danced through the gleaming silken strands. It was as though Clow were stroking his hands along the surface of the lake below, like water, long flowing water. The lengthy tresses reached out far past Clow's fingertips, and lay windswept and cascading far beyond either man; nearly double the shorter's height. It was true, the wizard noted, that Yue was at least a head shorter than Clow himself, but anything but stocky. In mind with aerodynamics, he had a thin build… but at the same time, Clow couldn't help but note, no less masculine than a larger man. Perfect… as surely no human could be.

But there was something wrong here. Unlike Cerberus who had run to greet Clow upon his birth, Yue lay here motionless, his eyes softly closed, against Clow's sheltering body. The somewhat spell bound magician cradling him might have feared the worst, but as he held his young angel so closely, he could feel his warm blood running, and upon his bare chest, Clow could see the faintest flexing of every tiny muscle as he breathed.

"Why won't you wake?" He whispered in the softest of voices, as he followed along every sloping line of his fragile guardian with his eyes. Without consciously thinking, Clow drew off his black satin cloak, and with the utmost care, gently draped it around Yue's shoulders. The deep color contrasted against his ivory skin, and made the majestic youth glow with an even greater brilliance.

Fighting against the strange rush of emotions beginning to swell up within him, Clow gently scooped the young man the remainder of the way into his arms, and stood off the ground. Yue's long flowing hair and snow-white wings undeservingly trailed upon the windblown ground, but there was nothing more Clow could do for it. Slowly beginning his walk back toward the manor, his poorly working brain managed to recall Cerberus, who was still lying unconscious against a large misshapen boulder.

"Cerberus." Clow called, attempting to nudge the beast awake with his only available appendage, his left foot. "Cerberus, wake up!" he hissed again, but to no avail. Clow Reed sighed. The only thing to do was make a second trip.

…

By the time Clow had returned to the manor for the second time, the large pendulum clock in the hall read half-an-hour to midnight. Cerberus he had carried off to his bedroom on the eastern wall of the house. The large lion still had not awoken, unsurprising considering the large lump developing on his head. Yue Clow had lain in the room adjacent which he and Cerberus had cleaned out in their 'great renovation' of the previous week. This room had no candles yet, and the walls hung bare and dark with only the silver light of the full moon pouring through the window. Unable to find a way to comfortably position his young guardian without injuring his wings, Clow laid him down on his side, allowing his long white feathers to flow along the shadowy wall behind him and onto the floorboards below. Beneath the deep brown sheets that now covered him up to his shoulders, Yue appeared as pale as the sparkling moon above them… equally as tantalizing…and equally as silent. Minutes, hours ticked by, and like his brother next door, the majestic lunar child had yet to stir even slightly from his deep slumber. It made no sense. When Cerberus was been born, he had immediately run up to his master, and if Clow could recall correctly, started licking his face! But Yue…

In the back of the magician's mind, thoughts of the worst kind were beginning to formulate.

What if he'd done something wrong?

It had been so much harder this time…what if he'd made a mistake?

Moving closer to Yue's bedside, Clow kneeled down on the floor. Nerves brimming with a strange apprehension, he carefully slid his hand beneath the covers and laid it upon the boy's chest. With the oddest combination of unease peculiar arousal running through him, the sorcerer closed his eyes, and let his sweaty palm and shaking fingers absorb every tiny ebb and flow of its gentle rise and fall. There was something so _sinfully_ enjoyable about the sensation, and Clow felt as he had never before. It was as though the contact sent an electric shock through his entire body…painful, and yet, more pleasurable than he could possibly imagine. His eyes still tightly shut, the magician's fidgeting fingers began to explore, spreading like a wildfire across his guardian's bare chest—across every arching line, each slender curve...His entire hand now swiftly slithering like a snake…down across his side, sliding upon the young man's soft skin –curling and dancing between all his ribs. Then Clow's wandering hands found their way across his abdomen…up and down all of the perfectly formed ridges, in and out of every defined muscle…it was like _nothing_ else in the world. As he reached past Yue's waist, Clow's heart began to pound like a wild animal against his breast; excitement—exhilaration—shooting through his veins like bullets.

'_What the hell am I __doing__!?'_

Clow tore his hand away as surely as if he had been burned. Wha—what was he…?! Utterly dumbfounded, the shaking sorcerer stared down at the limb in disbelief—disgust—as though it were an alien thing, not at _all_ of his own body. Well, s—surely he was just trying to look the boy over…there had to be something with him…surely he had only been trying to discern…

'_I—I'm not a bloody doctor!'_

And it had been so…he had felt…for a moment…

It didn't matter… it was in the past! He was tired…his emotions were just playing tricks on him, that's all.

'_I'm not a doctor.'_ Clow told himself again, slowly coming back to his usual state of mind. (What was is about this beautiful young man that seemed to…_do_ _something _to him?) _'But I know someone who is.'_ The picture of Hawkins's terror flooded face filled the wizard's mind, the terror and fear that had lined it all those months ago when Clow had—unbeknownst to the good doctor—shared with him his plans for Cerberus and Yue's creation. It had been so much better lately…It had taken Hawkins months to speak to him again… There was a part of Clow that so loved having his intellectual partner's company again… to loose it for a second time would be…

Torn, Clow Reed, the mighty sorcerer of the east, glanced back at his fragile charge lying unconscious in the little bed beside him.

It had to be done. No matter what it cost him in the aftermath, he had to get Hawkins.

…

In the moonlight, the small home and practice of Benjamin Hawkins seemed almost ominous and threatening. Or perhaps it was only the ominous concept about what he was about to do that had Clow's stomach tied in a knot. His heart trying as hard as it could to run in the opposite direction, the sorcerer knocked upon the thin wooden door. At first there was no answer—well, of course, it was nearly one in the morning! Clow knocked lightly upon the door again. "Hawkins!" he called through his shaking voice. "Hawkins? Hawkins!!"

At last some sounds of life began to emanate from the house. Several bangs, crashes, and bouts of swearing filled the night air. After a few loud and angry moments, the doctor's front door flung open, and there stood Benjamin Hawkins, his shirt half buttoned, his pants falling off of him and his curly blonde hair flying madly about his sweaty brow. "Clow?!" He panted, still recovering from his sudden and rude awakening. "What the hell is going on?! Do you have any idea what hour—what's wrong?" He had just caught sight of his friend's face, pale and clammy against his dark lank hair.

"Hawkins…" He whispered, his voice wavering like mad.

"What's wrong, Clow? What is it?" Hawkins inquired. The hour of the morning didn't matter anymore. Clow was standing rooted to his spot, looking as if he was either about to vomit, faint, or some combination of the two.

"Hawkins, I need you to come…" Clow stuttered. "It—it's an emergency...

"Please, Hawkins." He begged. "Please."

Clow wasn't going to say anything further: that was clear. But all the same, Hawkins managed to logic, Clow was his friend. Whatever could have happened to make him look like this…

The doctor reached inside his door and pulled on his coat. "Where're we going?" he asked determinedly. His very tone seemed to bring his friend some relief.

"The manor."

_A/N: Wow, sorry this one's so short, guys. I really meant for this chapter and the next to have been one conglomerate chapter seven, but when I saw the word count was passing 5,000, I though I should cut it in half. Please review anyways, this part of the chapter was the hardest to write, it was like pulling teeth, and I would still appreciate the reviews._


	7. The Blue Moon: Part Three

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Three: Yue**

**Chapter 3, The Blue Moon-Part 3**

Owls hooted, and a chorus of strange insects sounded through the dark forest. Every twig that snapped beneath his boots made Doctor Benjamin Hawkins nearly jump out of his skin. As he walked along his silent companion, Clow Reed, up the large hill to Reed manor, Hawkins realized that he had never actually seen the place. Despite having known the man for almost a year, the doctor and his friend had always met in town—the village below. The men would run around sometimes, stop in for a drink or two—more than once Clow had even visited him in his practice—but never in the long months had he ever asked Hawkins to his home beyond the forest.

No one in the village of Lightwater had ever been to Reed Manor. If it was said that Clow kept to himself, it didn't hold a candle to the antics of his father, who had owned the manor before him. Reed Sr. had been a man of his own breed altogether. Few knew when he had come to Lightwater, for there was none in the community who had been old enough to remember his birth. He came and went: here one decade, gone the next, and every time a child stuck his head out the window to watch him over the river, they say he looked the same…always retreating back into his hiding place. The children in the village told stories for as long as Hawkins could recall about he had sold his soul to the devil in return for eternal life, or other sorts of nonsense like that. Of course, all of those childhood ghost stories came to a close when the man died. The circumstances were so odd too. Hawkins's late father had been the town physician then, and when Reed was found dead in the forest, it was he who had been called off. Even the man who had signed the owner's death certificate had never seen the manor, since it appeared that Reed had been thrown—or driven—form it shortly before he collapsed in death about halfway down the hill his home lay on, as if trying desperately to reach Lightwater. Hawkins didn't have all the facts of course, and since the man had been dead three days before he was found, not even his father had ever been able to put together the whole picture. That case had driven him mad until his own death…

Shaking himself free of the long passed memories, Hawkins turned his attention back to Clow ahead of him. (It was certainly better than focusing it on all of the sounds…and strange movements...of the forest around them!) "Clow, what exactly _is_ going on?" Clow remained silently leading the way. "I mean, you live alone, don't you," he tried again. "And you're obviously fine, so what could you possibly need—" A dry twig snapped below the men's feet, and in the dark unknown that lay beyond, unseen leaves rustled, and the sound of heavy breathing filled the air.

Both magician and doctor froze, Hawkins's heart trying to beat out a loud chorus of 'Long Live the King' against his chest. After several tense moments, they heard the creature—or whatever is was—crossing the path behind them, and vanishing into the blackness beyond.

"Hawkins," Clow whispered when he was sure they were safe. "Unless you want to find out first hand what kinds of predators may roam this forest at night, I suggest you save your questions until we reach the manor."

Adrenaline still surging through his veins, Hawkins nodded.

…

Once inside the vast and shadowy entrance hall of Clow's enormous home, Hawkins once again rounded on his friend with questions.

"Now, what's this all about?" he asked pointedly as moonlight drifted down upon him from the high windows.

Clow was already lighting an oil lamp sitting against the room's western wall, but bothered to turn and face his companion as he answered.

"You're the only good physician from here to London, Hawkins," he replied softly, and the doctor noticed that his voice was beginning to quaver as it had before. "And the only man in the world I would trust with this." He turned on his heel, and led the way up the stairs. Still confused, but with new found confidence at his friend's trust, Hawkins followed in earnest. They two drifted down what seemed like a maze of hallways to Hawkins, the outsider. The moon's eerie light flying past them in great blocks of light and shadow as it beamed down through the scattered windows, the men raced on, soon so deep into the manor that the visitor to the place doubted whether he'd be able to find his way out again. At last when they had reached a small wing on the far western side of the house, Clow came to a halt.

"We're here." he whispered, his throat growing dry with nerves. What if Hawkins refused to help? What if he ran in terror from the house?

"There's someone here who needs your help, doctor." The sorcerer clambered on. "There's something wrong and he—he won't wake."

"Clow…"

"Please forgive me, Hawkins."

"What are you—?"

Without so much as another glance at his friend, Clow flung open the wooden door to the room in which Yue lay.

For an instant, time itself stood still.

"Oh—Oh my God!!" Hawkins eyes flew furiously from Yue's unconscious body to his long feathered wings and then back at Clow in horror.

"Wha—what is this!?" He screamed at Clow, his eyes swimming with terror, with confusion and fear. "Clow, what the hell is this!?" He gripped the front of his friend's coat tightly—desperately, peering up at the man praying for some kind of logical answer.

For a few precious seconds their eyes locked, and Benjamin could see reflected in his friend's dark orbs…that evening many months ago, out on the pavilion.

"No…no, please," he mumbled in disbelief and desperation. "Please, say it was all—all theory…" But Clow said nothing; he merely kept his unfeeling eyes locked on Hawkins's pathetic and shaking form. Hawkins's knees gave way and he crumpled hopelessly onto the floor, the horrible truth undeniable.

"I'm sorry Hawkins."

"No, he can't be, Clow." Hawkins half-heartedly insisted. "He can't be the moon, because where's the sun. And you—you said that the only day—the winter solstice was—"

"There was a change in the plans." Clow responded rather coldly, and he kicked open the door to Cerberus's room as he spoke; Hawkins gave a tiny whimper.

For what seemed like an eternity, there was naught but silence, and Hawkins simply sat there, sprawled on the floor looking very much like a large game animal cornered by a hunter. Clow could only wait. Out the window to his left, he could see the large full moon, so huge and bright at its perigee, drifting lazily along the night sky. How long would it be till morning? Clow hadn't bothered to check the clock when he had returned. Surely there could only be a few hours of moonlight left? He also thought of Yue. What a crazy night this had been, and to think, it may all have been for nothing. There was such a simple solution here, Clow could feel it in his marrow, one easy answer as to what he had done wrong in the case of his young lunar guardian.

"You're a bloody witch aren't you?"

"Not exactly." Clow whispered from his perch by the window. "Or at least, not the way you Christians seem to think. I'm just a magician, Hawkins, a very good magician."

"You created life where there was none, now tell me how that doesn't sound exactly like a witch? Tell me how that doesn't make you defiling God?" Hawkins, normally anything but a good Christian, seemed to be, in his shock and confusion, returning to his baseline behaviors.

"No."

"Witch." Hawkins hissed.

"I said NO!!" Clow screamed as he turned on spot, and before his colleague could do anything about it, he had hurled himself at the man and pinned him to the ground. "You damn bleeding fool! You don't understand, do you? DO YOU?!" Beneath Clow's strong grip, Hawkins was whimpering and whining like a drunken man—or perhaps more like a small child. The powerful sorcerer leaned in closer to the senseless little man until they were almost nose to nose, and spoke in a tone that was barley a whisper. "Listen to me, you fool. No man, and I mean _no man_, can ever create a human soul out of nothing. There is no magic and, certainly no magician, in this world that would ever be capable of that feat. So before you take your fear and hide it all behind your little Anglican bible, like—like all the rest of the _scum_ in this town would, why don't you consider all the facts first!?" Hawkins still struggled and fought like a mad toddler, trying to escape daddy's grasp. "Damn it man, you're a scientist! You're a philosopher! You're a brilliant man! Think like one!!"

Hawkins stopped squirming. His bright hazel eyes locked hard onto Clow's dark ones; and then…something in his whole body seemed to relax, his sense and his gentleman-ship seemed to be coming back to him. Sighing, Clow drew himself off of him, and held out a hand to help Hawkins off the floor. After dusting himself off and taking a deep breath, the doctor slowly began to speak again, sounding, though very shaken, much more like the man Clow called his friend. "Why—why don't you tell me what this is all about?" He stared at his boots as he spoke, as though he couldn't the wizard before him in the eye just yet.

Disappointed in his friends continuing mistrust, Clow harshly turned back to his window as he spoke. "You're a doctor, there's your patient." He said dryly.

"Clow," Hawkins whispered, no longer irrationally, but with the utmost sincerity. "Please—please don't make me. To see him… to actually—it would tear me apart, Clow."

"And if you let him die?"

Wordlessly, Hawkins made his way to the open bedroom where Yue lay. At the doorframe he turned back and looked at Clow. "I suppose he _is_ human, isn't he?"

"You've seen him." Clow answered rationally, looking over his shoulder to face the doctor.

Hawkins took a few steps toward the magician. "I'm not talking about appearances, Clow." He sighed. "Clow," the man began more softly. "I'm a _physician_. I know _human_ illness, _human_ anatomy, but that's all I know. Is his humanity more than skin deep?"

"You're the doctor, not I." Clow turned his attention back out the dark window. "He could have the anatomy of a house cat for all I know. But I said to you on that afternoon in the pavilion that I would make these two breathe, that I would bring them down into flesh and racing blood, and that is exactly what I have done. I hope…that may be enough for you."

The good doctor said nothing, but a few moments later, Clow heard the door to the bedroom close.

…

Time ticked on by. It was nearly four in the morning before Hawkins gave up and at last returned to his friend, waiting in the room next door where Cerberus was still out cold from his collision with the boulder. Hawkins tapped a few times on the open door to announce his presence. Tired and with dark circles dancing under his eyes, Clow turned around to face the doctor's somewhat solemn face. "Hi." Hawkins said weakly as he settled down next to Clow at Cerberus's bedside.

"What's your prognosis, doctor?" the riddled sorcerer asked as he stroked his large lion's fur softly.

Hawkins tried to laugh. "Well, if your asking whether you put everything in the right place…"But the gloom of this early morning stamped out his forced attempt to chuckle. "I'm sorry, mate." He said more seriously. "I just…don't know what to tell you. I can't find one damn thing wrong with him. "With a quavering hand, he reached out and ran his hands through Cerberus's thick fur as well. "Whatever is going on, Clow, it's out of my league. And—and maybe I am a bit like the rest of those narrow minded masses down in the city, who don't dare to think beyond their bibles and their bishops…who can't see past the end of their bloody noses, and who would want to run away from—from all of this 'magic' and 'sorcery'; but there's…somewhere in my heart, Clow, where I just want to help that boy in there, and just help you.

He's human, Clow. Just the way he looks, he's completely human; well, _mostly_."

"What do you mean?" asked Clow Reed in confusion. Hawkins wiggled Cerberus's enormous wings in answer. "Oh, right."

"Why, mate?"

"Why what?"

"Why," Hawkins murmured. "Did you make him so human?"

Clow stood up and began pacing the room, his eyes watching the floorboards, as if there were nothing more fascinating in the whole of the Earth at the moment than the long planks of wood. "It wasn't my choice, Hawkins… I called upon his spirit, I brought him to our existence, and I made his blood run, but…"

"And not for much longer, I'm afraid." Clow's heart dropped to his shoes. "I don't know what it is, or what's causing it, but he's getting weaker, and there's not a thing I can do. It's in your hands now my friend, he's growing worse…it's almost like, he doesn't have the energy on his own…like…"

Clow's eyes drifted out to the slowly rising sun, glowing brightly with its own embers, and then to the moon, still hanging as a great lantern in the sky. "Like his light can't shine on its own…" he finished for his companion. "Like…" both magician and curious doctor, turned to face the dusty mirror on the wall in which their pale, ghostly faces stared back at them. "A reflection…"

Before he really knew what he was doing, Clow had dashed out of the room, and thundered down the hall into the one adjacent. _'Of course, it was so simple! __**Why**__ hadn't he thought of it before?!'_ Tearing into the room, Clow thoughtlessly swept his small lunar child's frail body into his arms, and praying this would work, pressed Yue's heart, the core of his power, against his own, and embraced him tightly as if afraid to let go. With all of his might, Clow thrust as much of his own power as he could spare out of him. It was not painful this time, Clow thought to himself, as all around him fierce magical winds began to stir, whipping his hair about his face, and sending Yue's flying wildly all about him. But it seemed to work, and when Clow had transferred as much of his power as he possibly could, his guardian's breathing eased, and, though he didn't awaken, the boy seemed to rest much easier. Clow sighed with relief as he lay Yue back down beneath his covers. Hawkins, standing in the doorway, looking utterly windblown, crossed himself purely out of astonishment.

Clow laughed at the expression on his friend's face, and at the joy of finally having solved the great mystery after over four hours of driving himself mad in confusion. "I'm never going to be sane again after this." Hawkins whimpered. "What was _that_?"

Clow couldn't help but laugh. "It was so simple; I'm a daft old fool for not thinking of it sooner! Cerberus is the sun, and the sun shines with it's own light. But the moon, the moon reflects sunlight in order to glow. Cerberus could sustain himself on his own, but Yue…Yue needs my help, to sustain his life."

"Whatever you say, mate." Hawkins responded drunkenly. "The moon's a big bloody mirror, what_ever_ you say. Just please tell me that 'Cerberus' is the big –ah, _fuzzy_ one."

Repressing the urge to fall upon the floor, laughing at his friend, Clow turned again to Yue, who was still wearing absolutely nothing beneath the thin dark sheets that covered him. Silently releasing his staff ("And now he's got a big stick!" Hawkins chimed), he touched it to the young man's chest, and in a flash of light, long white robes appeared, streaking their way across Yue's thin form. (Hawkins didn't bother to comment.)

At last it seemed safe to say that he had done it. Clow Reed, born of Li Chen and her mysterious suitor, Xavier Reed, had at last accomplished his goal: The sun, the moon, and all the elements had come into physical forms. '_And then some,'_ Clow though as he remembered Light and Dark, which he had not planned upon. But there was still one thing he didn't understand: What was the deal with purple? Looking down at Yue's silver hair and ivory skin, the exhausted magician couldn't understand where the color purple came into this at all. He sighed, and looked one last time out the window to the sky beyond; the sun was rising, and dots of pink and orange were twirling their way across the lavender heavens.

"I'll be right back."

"Fine, go on, leave me here in my confusion ad my ruined mind." Hawkins cried whimsically as Clow rushed past him.

On the front lawn of the manor, the cliff that overlooked the sparkling waters of the lake below, Clow stood and raised his staff to the beautifully painted sky. Drawing another long, thin tarot card from his pocket, he whispered to the winds but one word: "Seal." All around the rainbow of the brilliant sky about him shined with a magical light. In his hand, the large card began to shimmer, and when the light had faded, bore upon it the image of a pixie. 'The Glow' Clow read. So he could create cards apart from the core elements. But this card held the power of the sun, he could feel it…so what on earth could…Clow sighed. He was really starting to hate the color purple too.

* * *

_A/N: Wow, glad I got that done! Sorry again for splitting this chapter, it was supposed to be part of chapter seven, but it was just __**too**__ long! That's the end of section 3 as well, the next section is 'Card Games', and it'll be a long one containing many chapters. That's probably the last there's going to be of Hawkins for a while too. Keep in mind, if you can remember all the way back to chapter 3, that the good doctor freaked out when Clow was only discussing theory. This, needless to say, is going to take some time for him to recover from. Not to mention, as you'll soon see, Clow's goin on a little road trip in a few chapters time. I think the bit where Hawkins was freaking out is what took up the most space and made my word count go so high, but I really wanted to make the point that this is 17__th__ century England! The Anglican Church was burning those they believed were witches at that time in history! Next chapter will be 'Kero the Mythbuster', a title chose months ago by a friend of mine that she thought I would never really follow through and use. So, naturaly, I'm using it! :P I hope this met everyone's standards, and __**please **__review, __**PLEASE!!**_


	8. Kero the Mythbuster

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

_A/N: Here you go, Cookie, I actually used your title :P._

**Chapter 1, Kero the Mythbuster**

Almost there…The short, fuzzy finger stretched, stretched on as far as it could go. Oh, the danger…the anticipation! How the finger worried! What if it were not to come back? What if this death-defying mission was to be its last?! But it must be done! It _must _be done! In the name of science and pot pie, it _**must**_ be!! Onward the chubby little finger inched…slowly…slowly… And then gently…with the tip of its stubby little claw…

Poke.

The date was July the first 1681, and the mission was clear: identify the strange alien life-form that had appeared in Cerberus Reed's home overnight. It was a sneak attack, this alien! Wait until the lord of the castle was unconscious and then—_then_ –you infiltrate his fortress! Oh, it was a tricky one, this thing! The last 'his majesty' could recall of the night before was being hurled through the air into a large—and quite solid, in case there were any doubts—rock. The next thing he knew, he was in his bedroom, all alone…no Clow in sight. And then…he found this! It looked like a human, it looked like one very much…but there were a few things that didn't fit Cerberus's brilliantly devised profile. For one thing it had far too much 'long flowing' hair to be considered normal! And for another it was so… well, white! Honestly! Its skin matched its hair which was easily whiter (was that a word, he wondered) than the pillow it was laying on! But there was one thing that really had Cerberus _brilliant_ mind stumped…these large white things it had growing out of its back. Was it a parasite?

Perhaps the thing was dead, Cerberus thought as he sat there poking it which, after the first tense few minutes, was actually a quite enjoyable pastime. It was either dead or numb form the neck down. (He poked it in the arm again.) From the contorted position it was laying in, he couldn't tell if it was breathing. Hmmm. This required another poke.

Whether dead or not, once a long series of pokes on the arm determined that the strange thing was _not_ about to jump on him, the great investigator moved on to phase two. Just as carefully as the long clawed finger had, Cerberus's wet black nose cautiously moved in…an inch at a time…nice and slow. Funny stuff, the curious nose decided as it sniffed its way down the alien creature's bleached out skin. Smelled like a human. But on the other hand, it didn't smell like Clow, either…in fact…it smelled kinda _flowery_. Maybe it had been lying out in the field too long, the oversized cat concluded. But if it was a human, Cerberus reasoned, what were these things? Once again, the curious Cerberus Reed turned his attention to the big white parasites. The sniffing nose tried to inspect these too, running up and down from the joint in the unusual trespasser's back to as far as Cerberus's neck could stretch. All this resulted in was a nose-full of feathers. Curious, mused the great thinker, _this_ required in depth investigation!

And so, on a long and perilous journey from the floorboards, the courageous and brave poking finger returned! Brimming with determination and apprehension, the claw tipped finger extended again toward the strange being upon the bed. But this time, there was a new mission in play; no longer would poking it in the arm suffice…there was now a more important element to this mystery.

Poke.

Cerberus's little claw touched soft feathers. Nothing. No movement. Perhaps the wings weren't attached. Yes, what an inspired and logistically derived conclusion! Yes! Perhaps the large feathery _things_ were not part of the whole _thing_ at all, but a distraction, a diversion to keep Cerberus's intuitive mind from achieving his conclusion! Of course, that which smell like a human is a human, the wings must be separate…fakes!

Happily, Cerberus poked the long mass of white feathers a few more times, positively giddy at his own sheer brilliance. But then…something completely unexpected happened…

In a large dramatic show, Cerberus pinned himself flat against the farthest wall, staring in horror at the unwelcome life-form that lay opposite. _'It MOVED!!'_ Even as the bewildered lion watched, speechless from afar, the human-thingy gently beat his left wing against the air to shake off the annoying poking. The situation had changed now! There was only one thing to do, it was time for the heavy artillery!!

…

Still trying to remain in his slumber, Yue Reed rolled over beneath his sheets, twisting one of his wings uncomfortably. It didn't matter, his wings were already a little sore from lying at an odd angle all night anyway, a little more strain wasn't going to make any difference. And…why were his wings out anyway…wouldn't have made more sense if he'd simply hidden them away?

Poke, poke.

That was really starting to get annoying. What was causing that steady, rhythmic poking? No matter which way he turned in bed, it was impossible to escape. It would just go on prodding at a different part of him, whichever happened to be available. _'Cursed thing.'_ Yue thought sleepily. He wished it would just _die_ and leave him alone, a though he would later have about this 'disturbance' frequently over the next three centuries. Despite the irritating sensation, now working its way across his back, Yue tried still to retain what little as he could of his slumber. A jab to his spine so hard that it sent him lurching forward against his flattened right wing, unfortunately, sent all hopes of this plan of action out the window. Sighing in surrender, Yue opened his eyes to face the dusty wall whose angle had made his long feathered wings so stiff during the night. While he was thinking about it (and before they could be poked at again), the still half-asleep Yue Reed willed the trailing feathered masses to hide themselves away. Then, still wishing he could go back to sleep, sat up and turned to face whatever it was that had goaded him into consciousness. Raising a thin eyebrow, the young man stared, almost distrusting his eyes, at the odd sight he beheld.

Sitting on the floor was the most utterly bizarre entity that Yue would (in his own opinion) _ever_ encounter. It was large, hairy, and, beneath the many proud layers of dirt and grime that covered its coat, an almost unnatural shade of orange. He reasoned it was supposed to be a lion, despite the lack of mane (which seemed to be made up for in the incredible tuft swishing from the end of the creature's tail), although an oversized dust mite seemed an _equally_ as likely identification. Whatever the thing was, as it saw that its query was awake, it withdrew the long handled broom (that explained what had been prodding at him all morning), and threw it over its shoulder in an excellent impression of a gunman in the king's army. With a large idiotic grin plastered on its face, the beast raise one of its paws and said. "Hi."

Thoroughly taken aback, Yue backed himself so far to the wall that the nearly fell off the bed. Lion or—or _whatever_ it was—He was certain that is wasn't supposed to _**talk**_! "Wha—what the…!"

…

It had been the quietest night of Clow's life just as much as it had been the longest. Although, technically it already morning when, exhausted both physically and mentally, the poor man had at last been able to collapse in his bed. (He hadn't even bothered to change out of his robes, which were now tied about him wrinkled and crumpled from being laid on all night–well—as their owner slumbered.) Hawkins had left and Clow had the sneaking suspicion that he would not return…for quite some time… Whether night or morning, or whatever one wanted to call it, once he had reached his bed at the far end of the house, Clow Reed had slept peacefully and solidly from the moment his head his—what he presumed was (he hadn't bothered to check)—his pillow.

At least, he had slept in peace until about nine-o-clock, when the serene silence of the manor was interrupted by the sound of Cerberus's huge feet thundering down the hall. _'What on Earth is he doing?'_ Clow wondered sleepily as he heard the large paws bound down about half way down the upstairs corridor and then stop. There was a crashing of mops and buckets as the furry beast pulled open the door to a broom cupboard, then the booming footsteps retreated again back in the direction they had come. What ever Cerberus was up to, it couldn't be good. Clow chuckled as he reached for his glasses and drew himself out of bed, imagining all of the crazy things Cerberus's little mind could come up with that would require the use of a broom or mop.

As the sorcerer strode across the room, straightening his ruffled cloak, he noticed his cards sitting upon the bedside table. There were eight of them now, he thought as he picked up the pile and glanced over the cards one by one. Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Wood, Light, Dark, and Glow. Upon the last of these, he paused. The Glow…He still didn't understand what had made him call to that card last night—or this morning, whatever. It had just made so much sense at the time, the lavender sky. He had been sure that this card would have had something to do with the moon. Purple. What in the name of heaven and Earth was the deal with purple? Cerberus had said from the beginning that he hated that color… that it meant 'pain' and 'terror' for him… What was it that Cerberus had said that night?

'_It's cold… and merciless, and—Ahhh! Don't let him shish kabob me!!'_

Clow sighed. Maybe the color purple had nothing to do with this whole situation; perhaps Cerberus was just off his rocker. Hoping that the great beast was in his right mind now, Clow set off toward the East wing where Cerberus slept, he had to see what the boy was doing with that broom. But as he walked, the purple problem came back to him. Cerberus had mentioned the color one other time too… They had been discussing Yue then…

…And…come to think of it…that dream he'd had on the twenty-third…

…Hadn't he seen purple then too? Yes, he was sure he had, when he had met that strange young man. Clow froze in his tracks. He hadn't had time to stop and think about it last night, but that had been Yue too, hadn't it? It hadn't occurred to the confused magician at the time because he'd been expecting his lunar protector to be more like Cerberus in form, but…when he put all of the pieces together…

A loud crashing noised from the end of the hall, and Cerberus's scream of "Ooow!" brought Clow's thoughts back to the present. As he rounded the corner, he nearly laughed at the scene before him. Careful to keep himself hidden from view of the bedroom, Clow Reed leaned back against the wall and listened to the heated conversation within.

"Ooww! That hurt! That's where that stupid rock hit me!!" Cerberus's shrill voice cut across the air. "What'd I do anyway?!"

"Stop poking me with this thing, you idiot." The second voice was much more calm, and softer and deeper than Cerberus's shrieks, though obviously annoyed at whatever Cerberus was poking him with. _'Yue.'_ Clow though, trying to conceal a chuckle.

"You didn't have to hit me with it!!"

"No." The second voice scoffed. "But it was certainly more enjoyable that way." Perfectly executed: his words were smooth as butter, but sharp as knives, and positively brimming with sarcasm. Clow had to bite his tongue to hold his giggles in. _'You've met your match, Cerberus.'_

"You're **mean**!!" the first voice, the lion in question, wailed. "And what the hell are you, anyway?!"

"Look who's talking…literally" Yue muttered smoothly in return.

Unable to stand himself anymore, Clow turned into the doorway, laughing. "My, my, what lovely siblings." As surely as if someone had flicked a switch, both parties turned from each other, facing Clow instead.

"Clow Reed…"Yue whispered, his gaze glassing over for a moment before he seemed to shake it off. Clow remembered the boy's apparent wisdom the previous night, before he had completed the sealing spell and collapsed. But as Yue's expression returned to normal, he seemed to be devoid of it.

"Clow, what is it?" Cerberus asked, pointing a finger at his little brother (What an odd thought).

"'It'?" The other hissed questioningly.

Clow, however, wasn't paying any attention at the moment. "Yue?" He started cautiously. Surprisingly, his ward seemed to respond.

For the second time he watched the young man's eyes mist over. "Yes?" He said somewhat hypnotically.

Not wasting a beat, the wizard drew several of his cards out of his pocket. "These are under your jurisdiction?" he asked as he laid out the Water, Windy, and Wood cards.

"That's right."

"And this one as well?" This time Clow held up the mysterious 'Dark' card that had somehow appeared last night along with the light when Cerberus had tried to run and save him.

"Yes," Yue whispered. "But…how…?" Shaking his head slightly, Yue seemed to snap out of his trance. Clow didn't have all the pieces yet, but they were certainly coming together. Deciding he would worry about it later, Clow turned his attention back to the room at large.

"Now, you were saying, Cerberus?"

Blinking a few times in puzzlement, Cerberus sighed, "Clow, what is going on here?! Who the heck is…'_he_'?"

"Much better." Yue said from behind his master, seeming to enjoy no longer being an 'it'.

Trying to keep a somewhat serious face, the amused magician between the two drew up a chair and sat against the wall so as to get better view of both of his 'children' at once. "Well, what's the last thing you remember, Cerberus?"

"A big rock!!"

Allowing himself a small chuckle at the beast's bluntness, Clow continued on. "Yes, when your energies collided with your brother's, these formed." He held up The Light and The Dark. "The force threw you backwards, Cerberus, I'm sorry."

"Well that's fine, but—Wait…brother?" looking back and forth from Clow to Yue wearing the unmistakable look of mentally putting the pieces together as he went. "You've gotta be _kidding_ me!" He whined at Clow. When he received no response, he turned back to the room's only other occupant and pointed an accusing finger. "_You're_ the cards' other guardian!?"

Looking equally as unhappy at the pairing, Yue ran his eyes up and down Cerberus's body as if hoping it would miraculously change into something more appealing. "Believe me," he muttered in distaste. "I feel your pain."

But as he watched the two siblings solemnly scanning each other, Clow noticed something for the first time since he'd arrived in the room. He nearly fell out of his chair for laughing. Purple! He had solved the purple mystery! Pain and suffering indeed, perhaps for Cerberus!

"What is it?" Yue asked concernedly, taking his pale violet eyes off of Cerberus and locking them onto Clow instead.

"Nothing." The man managed to return through his giggles. "Nothing at all!"

…

Days and weeks passed, July came and went, and August rose to take its place. Hawkins still hadn't come back. Clow Reed began to get used to things around the manor again. Actually, it was quite more interesting now with Cerberus and Yue at his side than it had ever been before. After the first few weeks had drifted by, it began to dawn on the magician just what it was he had done. He had taken the very souls of the sun and the moon, the ones that had been described by nearly every culture of the world, and brought them not only into consciousness, but into life…human life—

especially in Yue's case.

The strangest thing, Clow had noticed. Cerberus was like his son; that he could never deny. But Yue… It was starting to become a little crazy how Clow would lose his senses around the young man. He practically had to _remind_ himself that Yue was his son as well. It had all started on that night in June, but was now starting to get out of hand. It would just strike him at the oddest of times: Everything would be perfectly normal, and then, for a moment… time would seem to slow down…and his throat would try and tie itself in knots.

The strangest things.

Actually, strange seemed to be a word highly applicable to many things about life in the manor at the moment. It was enough to say that Yue was _not_ like Cerberus—of course, that had been obvious from the first moment Clow had laid eyes upon him; but the differences between the two were hardly 'only skin deep'. In fact, the wizard though as he mulled things over in his mind, perhaps it went even farther than their quite differing personalities that he had see that first morning. From the first moment he had been made into the world, Cerberus had been lively and active always wanting to play; and he had been strong and powerful—flying circles around his master's head within days. Yue, on the other hand was a whole other barrel of nuts. Perhaps it was Clow's imagination, a reflection of his own growing intellect, but it appeared to the sorcerer from the very beginning that Yue possessed much more knowledge of the world around him than his brother did. Even on that first of July, he had managed to save Clow's burning eggs on the stove—naturally, as if he had always known. Moreover, where his inborn learning failed, Yue was more than willing to fill in the blanks manually. On only his second day in the manor he had gratefully helped Clow beginning to restore some of the life to his father's vast library, a discovery of Cerberus's, and one that he had been almost disgusted to report. ("Books! What's the use of moldy old books!?") As for the subject of 'playing': that was entirely out of the question. Yue certainly wasn't one like Cerberus that you could roll around in the mud with; he seemed to be far beyond that sort of activity. (And as for the mud itself…!) Nevertheless, the most startling contrast of all perhaps was that Yue couldn't fly—not yet at least. He had explained it all to Clow. He wasn't as naturally strong as his brother, that was obvious, and Clow should have realized it himself, not to mention the fact that the 

human anatomy wasn't built to fly. Though his enormous wings easily had enough lift to raise him off the ground, it was obvious that the young man as of yet lacked the musculature be able to beat them against the wind as Cerberus did so easily. Nor would he, the boy had explained, for quite some time.

For quite some time…

Leaning aback in his chair, Clow Reed sunk himself back into deep contemplation. Oh, there was so much to contemplate! So much had happened in so little time, it was still difficult to take it all in. How much in the world of everything possible was now at his fingertips? He had the sun and the moon—he loved them; and he had his cards now too… his 'Clow Cards'. How many more of these little cards would ultimately join these eight here? Sighing and throwing back his mane of long grizzled hair Clow at last allowed himself to relax. It didn't matter how many there were supposed to be, he would just do as he had _been_ doing and call the cards to being when he felt…the time was right.

…

Life sucked!

Cerberus Reed paced back and forth across the lawn. Today he was not a great lover, ever so carefully caressing his beautiful 'pancake', nor was he a great investigator hot on the trail of the great mystery that was his little brother. He was not the lord of his castle today either, standing ready to defend his fortress. He was just annoyed.

Why couldn't things have just stayed the way they were? What did it matter if the entire world was being thrown out of balance? They couldn't have just left Yue up there?!

The great beast was not happy. He knew the color purple would bring him pain and suffering! First the rock, then the broom…and Yue was so…so BORING!! If that wasn't suffering, what is!? Well, perhaps being denied dinner would be an even greater torrential onslaught of misery, but **still**! The annoyed little lion was beginning to become so fed up with his sibling that he was even beginning to wish he had to share his room with that girl Clow had wanted so much, at least she might have been more fun!

Brooding and whining under his breath, Cerberus stopped his pacing and, in an overly dramatic show, threw himself under the shade of a nearby tree. It just wasn't FAIR! Grumpily he glanced out of the corner of his eye toward the little cliff jutting out to the lake. He could just make out the shining outline of Yue's figure in the blazing sunlight on the cliff's edge. Yuk! Cerberus stuck out his tongue in disgust. What was it with Yue and always having to 'train' and 'condition' so much? Having to go out there every day in the 'bright sunlight' in all his 'beauty' and his 'grace'. Yuk! That was all there was to be said for it. All _he_ had to do was speak and Clow would be there _drooling _on every word, or else go watching him out the window 'secretly' from the top floor! What was so special about Yue anyways? He wasn't even any **fun**! When he wasn't training his body or his magic so hard that he might as well have been preparing to swim the English channel, he spent all of his time 'reading' or 'thinking' or—or doing something just outright _**productive**_!! It was _sick_! It was _disgusting_! It was against all nature, and it was starting to get annoying!

Cerberus sighed. Maybe he really is an alien, he thought to himself. He never wants to play—he won't even _fly_! It _was_ unnatural: He, Cerberus, had been flying circles around the manor his first day out. All this crap about 'I'm not strong enough!'…who was he kidding? Snapping himself out of his annoyance and his self-pity, Cerberus rose to his feet like a phoenix from the ashes. Of course, why hadn't he seen it before…? Yue was going to play with him one way or another…It was all coming together! Throwing away the shroud of the whiny little boy, which he had been cloaking himself in, Cerberus made his decision. No, today he wasn't a lover or an investigator…today he was the evil super-villain! And he had a plan! Oh, yes he had a plan, a brilliant plan: one that the minds of mere mortals could not even begin to comprehend in all of its glorious perfection! And with all this in his mind, the valiant hero ran off against the backdrop of the peaking sun, to execute it.

…

Yue sighed, nearly collapsing against the little tree that overlooked the lake. Evening was falling now—he'd been out here all day. Gently massaging a stitch in his chest, he closed his eyes and allowed his breath to return to him. He couldn't wait until these wretched British summers were over, all this heat… The arrival of autumn would be a more than welcome occurrence. A cooling breeze floated into the humid air from the surface of the water below. Throwing his long braid over his shoulder, Yue let is lick its way across his neck as it passed, and dance its way down his chest as he released a few more buttons from his shirt. Yes…autumn would be a blessing. All the same, heat or no, there was some security in coming out here every day. Cerberus had no idea how lucky he was (truth be told he had little idea of anything): he wasn't human, or anything that resembled one. He was bestial in form, strong and powerful. Like the sun itself: born and then instantly burning. What must it be like to live like that? How must it feel to already possess, so early in life, all the strength he would need to fulfill his duty—to protect the cards…and Clow…? But perhaps there was a downside too. For all his valor and might, Cerberus was a fool. He knew so little of how to function in everyday life, and he certainly had no desire to learn more. He had his own, very warped, way of thinking and had no need nor desire to see things through a different lens. The world was the way he saw it, and nothing more. No, there was more than even that. Cerberus could fly, he could run endlessly, pin you to the ground if he desired it—but he had never used his magic… in all this time. Did he know how? Could it be possible that the concept of developing his magic was beyond him? Or…perhaps…he was still too immature as of yet…to even care. Perhaps… he didn't even think of himself in terms of his magic.

But before he could give the matter a second thought, the soft sound of someone approaching tore Yue out of his thoughts. Allowing his psychic senses to wander and explore past him, he felt a familiar aura wash over him as sure as the summer heat. Violet eyes snapped open. "Cerberus," he whispered in slight apprehension as he turned himself from the tree to face the lion's determined face. "Cerberus, what—?

"What's wrong?" but the sentence died on the wind. Cerberus was smiling his same goofy smile, usually a reflection of the immature illogic within, surely he only had something stupid to say. All the same, the apparent knot forming in the region of Yue's stomach was warning him of something else that lay behind that smile, something he was sure he wasn't going to like.

"Yue, why won't you play with me?" Cerberus asked, more slyly than his brother would have believed him capable of. Yue merely rolled his eyes, he was too overly cautious sometimes, to think Cerberus possible of some devious plan.

"Must we go there again, Cerberus." Yue sighed, relaxing his guard and turning form his brother and back against the tree. Honestly, Cerberus was so juvenile.

"Yes, we must." He still had that ridiculous smile plastered on his face. "You're no fun, Yue, you won't even fly!" Now he was sounding like his usually self: whining. At least he was being sincere…

"I _can't_ fly, Cerberus." Yue responded, sounding somewhat bored, as he closed his eyes and leaned back against his little tree.

"You have wings!" Cerberus protested loudly. "You have to fly!"

No answer.

"Fine, then we'll have to do it my way."

It all happened in a split second. Yue hadn't even had time to open his eyes again before something quite solid struck him between his shoulder blades. Everything was moving very fast, the sky, the tree, the idiot Cerberus all a blur. Coughing for breath, it was out of instinct more than conscious thought that Yue reached out and held for dear life to the only solid object he could find: the edge of the cliff. It took a moment for Yue to straighten it all out in his mind. That moron had just tried to throw him off the overhang! Glancing over his shoulder as best he could, still clinging to the rock face, the infuriated young warrior could barely see the edges of the long rocky shore that lined the side of the lake just beneath him. Falling from this height would be bad enough over the lake, but here over the menagerie of jutting rocks and vast boulders it would be more like suicide. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Yue furiously tore his eyes from the distant ground, and instead turned their piercing gaze upon his older brother, who was now hanging over him still wearing that horrible plotting smile. He seemed quite pleased with himself as he paced back and forth across the grass observing his dangling query.

"What's the matter, Yue; you look a little hung up at the moment." Cerberus scoffed playfully. Was he really so dense? Did he truly not understand what was going on here?

"Cerberus!" Yue shouted back from beneath the cliff's edge. "What the _hell_ is going on?!"

"I already told you, _little_ brother." He was enjoying every moment of this. "I want you to play with me."

"Cerberus," the 'little brother' hissed in fury. "You dim-witted—"But the shirting of the rock beneath his hands prevented him from telling Cerberus exactly what species of dim-witted he was. The rocks that supported this cliff from below weren't used to this kind of strain, they were used to being trodden on, yes, but hung on—they wouldn't hold forever. "Cerberus," this time Yue whispered less severely. "Please, Cerberus, just stop all this now…"

For a moment the young lion's yellow eyes locked on to his sibling's violet, reflecting their concern…but as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and Cerberus was back on explaining his brilliant plan. "The way I see it," he continued on as if Yue hadn't spoken at all. "You're either gonna die or you're gonna fly; I'll get in about the same amount of trouble at this point."

"Cerberus!" Could he really be this naive? "I **can't** fly! Not yet, I'm—"

"I'm not strong enough." Cerberus mimed in a singsong voice. "Come on, Yue, how stupid do you think I am? You're only ten days younger than me, and I can fly just fine."

Yue had to bite his tongue to keep from telling his brother just how stupid he _did_ believe him to be at this moment. _'Easy for him to say,' _Yue thought to himself as the rocky edge gave another crumbling shift, _'he's not bipedal. The anatomy is entirely different.'_ "Cerberus, I'm not like you!" The rocks would hold only a little while longer… "I **can't** fly!"

The cliff gave way.

Seconds seemed to take an eternity to pass; the entire world seemed to be moving in quick flashes. The broken rock suspended in free fall. Cerberus leaning over the edge. It was all growing farther…farther. In an instant, he made his choice. Still yards from the stony surface below, Yue released his wings. This was insane…but it was his only shot. If he could get them to beat even a fraction of the speed his heart was right now…! Somehow instinctively knowing what he had to do, Yue turned over in the air, allowing his vast wings to catch the wind as he continued to fall. There was no way this would work…the dive was too steep… Straining with all his power, the desperate young man forced his wings against the rising airstream; he had to get lift…just a little! He was _not_ going to die like this! Not due to Cerberus's stupidity! But everything was beginning to ache… a trickling pain that carried down his neck, across his shoulders, even down the sides of his chest. Damnit! He had _told_ Cerberus! Just a bit farther, though… fighting with the last of his might, Yue somehow managed to clear the shoreline, but any relief was short lived.

He couldn't take anymore; he was beyond his breaking point… Still pulling at his wings, Yue felt something in his back tear…

His wings went lax…

The water in the lake skimmed his side like blades rather than liquid as the long feathers vanished. Gathering as much breath as he could, Yue braced himself for the impact.

…

The water in the lake still shook violently as Cerberus bounded down the shoreline. He knew it would work! Can't fly, Ha! He didn't hit the rocks did he? That means he had to have airborne! Perhaps it wasn't the most graceful effort, but still! Cerberus sat on the lake's edges, letting the rippling waters tickle his toes as he waited for Yue to re-surface.

A few minutes ticked by and the great lion still sat alone. Crud, this wasn't good. Despite what he'd said earlier, he had a feeling he'd be in much more trouble if he actually _killed_ his little brother… After a few more tense seconds flew past, Cerberus couldn't take it anymore.

"Yue!" He called as he waded out into the lake. When his feet left the ground in the deeper water, the large beast suddenly felt something grab at his ankles. Before he could do as much as scream, he was being whipped through the water. After spinning and thrashing his way back to what he thought were the shallows and wildly coughing up bucketfuls of water, Cerberus turned about and faced his opponent. Floating in the water behind him, and looking positively murderous was Yue. "Wow, you're pretty good in the water." Cerberus laughed nervously. "So, I push you off a cliff, you scare the life out of me…we're even now, right?"

For a time Yue said nothing, but just stared at Cerberus with eyes like sabers. "No, Cerberus," he responded at last, quietly, deadly. "Not quite."

…

Clow rushed on the scene a short time later to find Cerberus pinned quite solidly to the ground, being all but strangled by a very drenched and irate looking Yue. It took him exactly five minutes to pry them apart.

'Strange': it was certainly a word applicable to the Reed household.

* * *

__

_AN: Wow, that was a long one! I thought about cutting it in half...but it just didn't work right that way, and I was persuaded to leave it as is. This chapter was supposed to be focused mainly on the social dynamics of Reed manor: Yue and Cerberus are still getting used to each other. :P They've still got a long way to go to develop into the pair Sakura comes to know (thankfully, they've also got plenty of time to get there. I'm not sure I have a title for the next chapter yet, it all depends on how things go... I'd like to get in one more chapter **before** the big winter one I have planned, but it might not work out that way... **please** review! I'm begging on my knees!_


	9. The Runaway: Part One

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

**Chapter 2, The Runaway- Part One**

After August, summer began to fade away into autumn in the little English village of Lightwater. The weather grew cooler, and all of the trees in the forest that lined the hills all about the town began to lose their heavy leaves in brilliant show of red and orange. Up upon the highest hill, Cerberus Reed, a large lion-like beast who nearly matched the trees orange plumage in color, could probably tell you more about the weather and the falling leaves better than any man from here to London.

Though Clow had claimed not to be too angry with him, ever since August when young Cerberus had pushed his brother off a cliff, the little lion had gotten several opportunities to get to know all of these lovely colored leaves first hand. At least he wasn't lonely on his adventures back and forth among the piles of vibrant foliage; he had two very good friends with him every day! They were two such interesting people: The first, if it were proper to choose between friends, was his favorite. She was a real looker: tall, slender, and oh so fragile, like a tiny little tooth pick; a man had to treat her gently. But at the same time, she was a well-rounded woman; she could get down and dirty alright! And when she got down into those leaves! Oh man, she was a wild one! Cerberus's other good friend was not near as fun, but man-o-Pete, could he do all the dirty work! Kind of a dumpy sort of fellow, and a bit plain; he just had no pizzazz at all. He kind of just dragged along behind most of the time, but boy he would never complain! Real troopers, both of them! Such wonderful friends they were! Their names, as dictated by Clow, were Miss Rake and Mr. Leaf-bag.

Day in and day out Cerberus got to spend a lot of time with his new friends. After the first few days had ticked by, he began to realize just how stupid it was to build a mansion in the middle of a forest: the leaves never **end**! They just keep coming! Clow's ancestors were idiots. The work wouldn't bother the large fuzzy beast so much, he and Clow had spent many a day cleaning up the house and the yard back in June. Perhaps that was the heart of it: Clow. Cerberus sighed, things certainly had changed since those few days in months past when it was just him and Clow… back then his courageous excursions with Miss Rake and Mr. Bag might be visited by the insane magician that was Clow Reed…now the only company that might drop in was a very unwelcome Mr. Arrow.

Yue, it had been revealed after his torn tendons had healed, was an archer, and a dang good one too, his brother had to admit. Unfortunately, this came as a double-ended sword to the manor's temporary leaf-raker. Sure, at least Yue was doing something slightly more interesting than he had been before (there was always the possibility his arrows would fly off mark at which time the rule of sibling rivalry called for fits of laughter on Cerberus's part), but it also meant that if you annoyed him enough, well—you'd better be able to duck pretty fast! What made it all worse, if that was possible, was that Yue could also now use his magic, and not just all that 'sensing' stuff he was doing before. Only the other day, he and Clow had been out into the woods to gather firewood—without an ax! _Yue_ was so brilliant that he slash things apart with some kind of…energy-razor-thing! It was disgusting! And to make matters worse (for Cerberus at least) Clow was just falling head over heels for his little protégé's improvements—well… he was falling head over heels for _something_ at least. There was something weird about Clow lately; Cerberus had the strongest suspicion that there was something going on that he wasn't being told about.

Perhaps it was the knock on the head he'd received that morning before, but from the first day Yue was with them Clow had been acting strangely. As he hobbled about the lawn with his leaves as company, Cerberus began to ponder this enigma. It could just be his imagination of course. After all, the furry creature thought to himself, he had only known Clow for ten days before Yue came along. Was that really enough time to get to know a guy? Especially a guy as odd as Clow! But there was just something different there. Even if you were as _ab_normal as Clow was, Cerberus reasoned, you had to have a regular 'normal' of some kind, and when Clow was with Yue he just wasn't his normal abnormal self! Of course! That all made sense! Ah, such logic his brilliant mind was capable of!

It always happened at funny little moments: In the library, or when Yue would help him in the kitchen and they were just— Clow just plain got weird! There **was** something going on around here! And unless Miss Rake or Mr. Bag were somehow involved in this great conspiracy, the ever brilliant Cerberus seriously doubted he was going to be let in on it.

…

Autumn was here at last. After what had seemed such an unending summer, at long last the weather over the little island nation of Brittan (and certainly her small hill village of Lightwater) was beginning to cool. Winter was rumored to be long here, and soon it too would be descending upon them. Finally. It would so wonderful; easily worth struggling through the relentless summers.

Yue sighed as he gazed out upon the colorful September landscape. This was truly the only advantage to staying here in the east wing of the house: the view of the grounds, now shining vibrant red gold. It _certainly_ was no pleasure to have Cerberus as a roommate. By day, the oversized dust mite was rude, loud and exceptionally annoying, by night, he was possibly worse. How it was that clumsy creature could begin an evening curled up on his pillow, and by morning be lying in the opposite direction and half off the bed… Cerberus was hopeless, and as a roommate he _was_ the worst sort. He spent the entire night thrashing about in his bed—_snoring_ occasionally—and then decides he should give every living thing, from here to the surrounding forest, a heart attack, running around the house screaming at the crack of dawn.

Of course, that over-excited lion wasn't the only other member of this household, Yue reminded himself, there was also Clow. Clow: he was an oxymoron within himself—how he could run and play with Cerberus—and yet… there was another side to the man too… something more subtle. _Mature_ perhaps; but whatever it was in Clow Reed, it made life with the maniacal Cerberus seem a fair trade…to also get the chance to spend time in _his_ presence.

Sighing slightly and trying to shake the cluster of thoughts from his mind, Yue turned his attention back to the window. How long would it be until the weather cooled more, and the frozen winter would cast those all too recent summer eves into nothing more than a forgotten memory? And more importantly, he mused as a gentle breeze drifted its way in through an unprotected window, how much longer would it be until this summer's flurry of emotions faded on with it?

Almost on cue, a moment later Yue's unfortunate roommate stumbled burst into the room, leaves swirling about him and a look of mock anguish on his face fit to be seen in the theatres of London. Inching his way across the threshold like a dying man on his last breath, he hurled himself upon the floor at his brother's feet. Panting and wheezing the great performer twitched and squirmed sporadically as he cried to his 'audience': "This is it! This is the end!

"It's all over now!" he screeched, launching himself up on his hind legs and throwing his (still twitching) arms to the heavens. "You, you fools and your leaves—oh your vile leaves! You have all done it! You have all killed me! "In one final show, he whirled in Yue's direction and, with his fur flying and his 'murderous' leaves along with him, screamed "Farewell, fair cruelty!", and promptly collapsed on the hardwood floor.

Yue simply stared at Cerberus's pone form for a moment or two before he rolled his eyes and turned back towards the grounds out the window. "What is wrong with you?!" the latter yelled, dropping the act and pushing himself off the floor. "Have you no compassion!?"

"Frankly I was just amazed you could quote Shakespeare, as much as you despise the library." Yue hissed back without bothering to turn and face his sibling. This sort of rivalry had become common between the two brothers since the events of last July. For some reason Yue seemed to be angry about being pushed off a cliff. It was just inconceivable! No matter how many times he thought it over, Cerberus Reed just couldn't bring himself to see what he had done to warrant such careless treatment. Surely he deserved better than this! What with his leaf raking time with Miss Rake and Mr. Bag, and now Yue's new and improved brand of sarcasm life in this house was beginning to become downright unfair!

"Drop dead!" the lion cried childishly back. "I think we'd better call hat Doctor Hawkins up again," he muttered angrily, throwing himself upon his messy bed, "he was wrong about you! You have no heart!"

But the comeback Cerberus had been expecting never came. "Dr. Hawkins?" Yue whispered, turning to from his window for the first time since Cerberus had walked in. "Who's Dr. Hawkins?"

For a moment Cerberus seemed taken aback, as if Yue were speaking some odd foreign tongue (as Cerberus sometimes suspected anyway, with all his 'flowery' wording), then realization dawned upon him. "Oh, that's right," he responded slyly, his face cracking into a mischievous smile. "You don't know Hawkins, do you?" The game now finally back on his side of the table, Cerberus seemed to be less annoyed, and more enjoying his brother's company; at last _he_ seemed to know something that precious little Yue, with all his brilliance and talents, did not

…and it was _sweet_! Stretching out his long legs as slowly and leisurely as possible, the mighty king, now once again lord of his castle, slipped back off his unkempt throne and stalked about the floor, surveying the inferior intelligence before him as he spoke. "What do you know, Yue?" he asked slyly.

"What are you talking about?" Yue asked suspiciously as he watched the leonine beast slink about before him with his suddenly cocky glare.

"I mean," Cerberus egged cunningly, "How much do you remember… about the night you were born?"

…

Lightwater just wasn't the same. Ever since that faithful summer eve of 30 June, the little village just didn't seem the same to Clow Reed. Before, when Clow would begin his daily walk to the town, it was with a smile on his lips and a joy all about him; it hadn't mattered whether the day brought rain or sunshine, because the pure enjoyment of walking along the cobbled streets cast the entire morning into a golden hue. Back in those days every shop, from Tom's bar to the butcher on the corner, had glowed from within with an almost humble light, and the footfalls and hushed voices of each man woman and child more like a merry song upon the wind. The streetlights, which were lit every evening by a dumpy sort of fellow with a poorly patched cap, had almost seemed unnecessary, even in the latest evening hours, with the brilliant and all consuming life that was the village of Lightwater in Clow's eyes. More recently, however, rather than a bustling and lively place, the town had become for Clow a kind of phantom—a mere reflection of a once living and breathing creature, now gone, murdered, dead which appeared on the atmosphere like a mockery of the life which had once dwelt there. Now every walk to the village seemed to be agonizingly slow, as if the forest itself were trying to consume the magician before he could reach the safety of the river. The streets seemed twice a long as they were before, the buildings which had once seemed like warm cottages had now transformed themselves into leering beasts, towering high above Clow like a great monster of nightmare. Every walk seemed like a stroll through pouring rain, even when the sun burned so bright it might have crisped the ground, and everything appeared to the sorcerer through a grey foggy haze… gone, dead that was Lightwater now; it would never be the same.

Clow had been trying all these past months to avoid the subject of why: _why_ had the town he loved lost all its luster for him, _why_ did every step these days feel like agony befitting the gates of hell, _why_ was it that every time Clow happened upon Dr. Hawkins practice, the world seemed to grow darker. Clow didn't like the word 'why' anymore. He didn't like it because it was burdensome; he didn't like it because it was hurtful; he didn't like it because it always required an answer, and the answers to his current questions, he would rather avoid altogether.

Shuddering from the cold, Clow wrapped his long black cloak tighter around him, and pressed his hood harder over his ears. The citizens of Lightwater (unbeknownst to Clow who was avoiding answers) found their mysterious neighbor equally as dead and ominous as he found all of them. Clow's whole aura had been slowly degrading day by day lately. He looked simply horrible, more like an old man on his deathbed than a young fellow in the prime of his life. His eyes, once insightful and warm, had now grown dull and dim, their deep sparking blue hue exchanged for a lifeless inky black. His face seemed hollowed out and sunken at every possible opportunity, and his dark hair lay tame and lank instead of glimmering and wild. With the way he glided through town with his long hooded cloak billowing about him, the man looked like the angel of death himself, come to claim the souls of the living. Truth be told, he was starting to become quite a terrifying sight.

"It's because of him and the good doctor," Elizabeth Rae, a well dressed lady with unnecessarily curled red hair gossiped excitedly one rainy afternoon in Tom's pub. Old Elisabeth was a frequent rumormonger during her off hours whose word was the center of attention anytime talk was low in the bar. The women heard her out because she knew all the men in town and therefore must be very knowledgeable; the men sat and listened to watch her lean her voluptuously full bust over the bar every time she got excited. Altogether it was a good combination for Miss Rae who was simply delighted to hear the sound of her own blathering voice echo about the booze-line walls of Tom's place once or twice a week. "I mean, it's obvious isn't it?" Elizabeth continued taking a gluttonous sip of the fresh glass of gin some hungry looking man from the corner seat had just bought her. "Think about it, those two used to go on like a merry pair of jaybirds a few months ago, just positively giddy with excitement every time they set sight on each other. If I could be so lucky." She added grumpily as she gulped down the rest of her drink, and pretended not to notice the circle of men by the door debating whether they could send her up a fresh one. "I don't think I ever saw old Ben so happy before that Clow bloke moved to the town, honestly they were like two of the same vine those boys, always going about town in their scientific double-speak. Like anyone else gave a damn about their Plato or Prometheus, or whatever it was they always chiming up about.

"But now you notice the way they've been going about?" she asked, not waiting for an answer, "Ever since August they haven't said a blightly word to each other, and now Clow's become pathetically miserable, and Ben's as uselessly boring as ever."

"Oh but what could they have done to be so fed with each other, without one of us here knowing about it?" one of the other women gathered cried out in a heavy city accent.

"Yeah! That's right!" her grubbier companion yelled. "What are we gossips? If they'd 'ave gone and had some big brawl, wouldn't one of us 'ave 'eard of it?"

"Oh but perhaps not!" Elizabeth Rae cried out over another amber glass. "After all, what are we to know what transpires behind closed doors?"

"What mean you?" the first woman inquired.

"Well," Elizabeth responded thickly, with a fat, sickeningly delighted smile playing about her chubby cheeks. "It just so happens I'm a bit privy to this matter of Reed and Hawkins. You see, about the end of June I happened to be returning home late—working the old job you know," Everyone in town, including the churchmen knew well of Elisabeth's work, which truth be told most of _them_ were privy to, and most of their wives forced to ignore as best as was able. "Anyway, I happened to cross past Dear Benjamin's practice and you wouldn't believe who was there at near two in the morning, screaming his head off but Master Reed himself!"

A muttered silence swept the bar, and Elizabeth allowed herself a moment to wallow happily in the crowd's hushed curiosity before she continued; no matter how keen Reed and Hawkins had been on each other, what they could have been transpiring at two in the morning… "Yes, little Clow was standing there all but beating down the doctor's door looking utterly disheveled." Elizabeth carried on, "And in a moment or two the good man emerged from his home and the two of them ran off to the woods before I'd so much as had a second look at them. And of course we all know where they were headed,"

"You must be mad!" Tom the owner shouted out from behind the counter. "Surely you're not suggesting the manor!?"

"I heard them say it." Elizabeth replied ominously.

"No one's ever been to Reed manor, not even that old whelp Xavier died." A young gentleman mused thoughtfully.

"Exactly," the drunken gossiper replied lazily. "The way I figure it, no one knows what's been hiding up there all these years. The way I see it," she continued, leaning her extensive bust over the bar again, "good old Ben must have saw something up there the likes of which he couldn't recover from overnight."

Far above the bar, far above the pub and the town as well, the wizard in question trudged his way back up through the forests and hills to his home—to Reed Manor. Clow, in his self-absorbed stupor never heard any of the words from Elizabeth Rae or any other of the gossips for that matter. He didn't want to hear them. He had other problems too, the man thought as he climbed onto his front lawn. He had many more 'why's and other questions to avoid that did _not_ involve his once friend, Benjamin Hawkins. There was another problem; he was somewhat aware, closer to home—much closer! There was…

In an instant, Clow froze in his tracks, his long cloak, falling a moment behind, flying out past him on the wings of the mighty wind. Through the dark and the gloom around him which Clow now so thoroughly associated with Lightwater, the grounds, and anything beyond the reaches of his manor, a single, brilliant, ethereal sight met the magician's weary eyes. Cast out against the grey, darkening sky, and the fading leafless woods, the ingle sight nearly stole Clow's breath away, and all but stopped his racing heart. Standing solemnly against the manor entrance, beneath the cracked and crumbling words of Clow's ancestors, Yue seemed to emanate a kind of holy light against the landscape, like the child of Gabriel, or Raphael, or one of the other angels of heaven these villagers went on about. Snow white and pure against the hard stone around him, he stood solemnly against the doorway, his long silvery hair dancing about enticingly on the wind as it fought to unravel from the rest of its braid, and his fair skin even paler with cold. He turned to Clow, still writhing, in complete awe, a few feet away. "Is it true?" he whispered, unknowingly seductively upon the wild winds, his violet eyes shimmering with sadness and sorrow which only seemed to enhance his tragic beauty.

"w-what?" Clow stuttered, still standing rooted to spot in a kind of stupor.

"Is it true," Yue muttered mournfully, his eyes sparkling with unborn tears he could not shed "what Cerberus said, that you lost your best friend…because of me?"

Clow stood for a moment more, taking in every detail, every breath, every sigh of the sorrowful creature before him, and before he knew it—before he could even think it—he had the young man in his arms. Not knowing, not caring what happened from here, he cradled Yue's frail form in his arms, intertwining his fingers in his soft, pale tresses. "It's not true." He whispered. "None of it is true, you must believe that." For a moment Yue stared at him with wonder, with and an unexplainable wonder, but as Clow drew him nearer, his frightened eyes softened, and he let himself fall deeply into his master's embrace, surrendering , yielding to Clow's compassion—to the comfort he offered. "Anything I've done," Clow continued softly, gently resting his frozen cheek against Yue's hair, "Any crime I may have unwillingly committed to drive Hawkins away was my own doing… you had nothing, _nothing_ to do with any of my own tragedies…

… my angel."

The last of these he whispered most silently, in such a voice that the racking wind might have carried it away were they not here so close to one another, and Yue trembled weakly in Clow's arms, as he felt them warmly breathed upon his neck.

For nearly an eternity they stood there, together, with only each other and the elements as company. It was a long while of silence in which the only sounds to be heard were those of the whistling breeze and the rustling branches of the looming leafless trees. "But you will miss him, won't you?" Yue inquires softly after a long pause. Clow's disheartening sigh answered for him.

Unbeknownst to either of the two as they made their way back into the safety of the manor, their entire seen had borne one more whiteness. Deep from within the nearby bushes, Cerberus had watched the entire scene. With eyes shining with blinding anger, he thrust himself toward the far entrance to the manor wreathing with such jealousy that he nearly set the dried brush ablaze in his wake.

…

As soon as anyone could blink an eye, winter was upon them. All across surrey were reports of vicious snowstorms ravaging the lands to the north.

"I'm telling ya'," McKinley, the local coachman could be heard saying one late evening; "I'm starting to worry about my business! If there's bad snow on its way I'm not one to put me horses to it!"

"Relax, man," a well dressed gentleman from one of the seats by the icy windows chimed. "It'll never storm in Lightwater, not this early in the season."

"Yes, it's not even yet December! Worry not for your blizzards for another month yet, McKinley!"

Aiden McKinley was probably the most disliked necessary person in town. He was a tall, robust man whose prominent belly jiggled merrily with the rhythm of his carriage as he escorted both men and goods all about the area. He had a thick, black, wiry beard and poufy mustache which obscured most of his tanned and cracked face, but through which a warm smile could always be seen no matter the weather. His clothing was only slightly shabby, faded and dirty from years of frequent use, and his tall hat wore thin in places where it bumped and brushed up against the hood of his box as he bounced along the town's cobbled roads. The townsfolk hated him because he was an Irishman, and therefore must also be a rebellious savage like those of his homeland. Unfortunately, he was also a necessary hated-man because he was unquestioningly the best driver from the village to London! His reputation had been earned the hard way, from years upon years of driving his horses safely through the worst of storms, the likes of which Lightwater had apparently not seen in quite some time, and was assuming the never would again.

"Say what you like," McKinley responded, glancing around at the other men in the pub. "But we're about due for a good storm this year! We _are_!" he shouted indignantly when several of the men laughed into their glasses.

"Right mate," one of the choltered, patting the old Irishman on his massive shoulder, "just like we were last year, eh?"

"Or the year before that." Another chimed.

"Or the year before, or the year before," two others sang mockingly.

In addition to his wild beard and beaten hat, the cabby also had quite a reputation of dramatically prophesying Lightwater's inevitable doom.

"You wait," he muttered angrily. "You wait till you're all buried in up to your asses! I won't be commin' to your rescue, I can guarantee that!" No one seemed at all offended. Giving up, McKinley sat back down in his chair and pondered ruefully over his glass of gin. "Personally I wish I'd have taken a leaf out of Hawkins's book and gotten meself out of town as soon as the weather turned cold."

In the far dark corner of the bar, a cloaked stranger gasped with excitement, and unconsciously drew his cloak tighter about him. No one ever paid any mind to strangely dressed young men who slipped into the bar in the evenings; it had become somewhat of a staple of Tom's pub, truth be told. Sometimes they were drunks off the streets, or disobedient boys hiding from their fathers, but whatever their persuasion, they welcome none the less to sit and disappear into the shadows. After all who were a bunch of fellow boozers to judge? This particular fellow had been coming in for some time now to listen to the men talk, and then disappear by moonrise, as I he were waiting for something. Nothing could be seen of him in the dim candle light spare a pair of pale eyes which shone like lanterns out of the shadowy depths of his cloak.

"What's the story with Ben anyways?" another man replied softly form a far table. "He's never left like this before? Just what are we to do without a physician for the next few months while he's of Advent-ing with his extended family?!"

"He has his reasons," Tom grumbled, "Hasn't had the best time lately, you know? And I suppose a place like Godstone is a good spot for him to get away."

The dark youth in the corner stood up quite suddenly at this mention, and as conspicuously as he could slinked his way out the back door. No one paid much mind, but all the same, the young man ran off as quickly as he could to the safety of a dark, desolate street corner. Presumably safe at last, he leaned against the miraculously unlit lamppost and allowed his breath to return to him.

"God," he whispered, as he threw back the dark hood which had hidden his face from the pub-goers, "What the hell am I doing?" Removing the rest of his cloak, and stowing it away beneath his jacket, he stood himself back up, and in one swift movement, withdrew his long silvery plait from its hiding place down the back of his shirt. Yue Reed had been doing this for nearly a month now, sneaking out of the manor in the evenings, and lurking around the streets of Lightwater hoping, praying for some useful bit of information. It was much easier now that the winter had fallen, and his fair skin and hair vanished more easily against the lightly falling snow. If he were caught running back for the trees, it would spell disaster for Clow, but by the grace of some unknown power, Yue's nightly excursions had not yet been noted by any of the town's folk. Double checking to ensure that he wasn't being followed, the young man vanished into the shadows of the neighboring buildings, and disappeared into the night.

…

"Clow!"

"Yue?" Clow asked as he whirled around in his little desk chair, utterly bewildered. Still breathing somewhat heavily, Yue rushed to Clow's side, his bangs pressed to his forehead by beads of sweat. "Yue, what the—"The magician exclaimed as he leapt up and immediately settled his breathless ward into his chair.

"Are you alright?" Clow asked after a few minutes when Yue had full regained himself. The latter nodded hurriedly, as if to brush off the subject.

"I'm sorry," he responded submissively, as Clow continued to watch him worriedly. " I got up the hill as quickly as I could."

"From Lightwater?"

Yue said nothing, but the shame and sorrow playing about in his eyes spoke volumes. Running a hand through his hair, Clow collapsed in one of the neighboring chairs which surrounded a book-laden table like an expectant father who had just received the 'good' news.

"Please forgive me." Yue muttered weakly, sliding pitifully onto the ground at his master's feet, his face vanishing behind his long curtain of hair. "I made sure I wasn't seen," he continued from his prostrate position upon the floor, "But I heard all they had to say…I"

Before he could continue, Clow reached down and gently lifted the boy's chin in his hands, forcing their eyes to lock, Yue's tearful violet, to Clow's warm and tender navy. Uncertainly, Yue gasped softly as the elder magician softly stroked his hair. "I'm not going to punish you, Yue." He whispered fondly.

"But I—"

"YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!"

The shrill voice rang out like a shot across the air. Cerberus leapt out from his hiding place behind a rather large pile of heavy tomes. "He runs off to the village, and doesn't even get YELLED AT!?" He screeched, tears of fury and senseless jealousy sparkling in his eyes. "What's WRONG with you!?" the angry child yelled at Clow.

"Cerberus," Yue tried to interject.

"SHUT UP!" the little lion screamed. "I HATE you, you _son of a bitch_! I wish you'd never been born!! I WISH YOU'D JUST ROLL OVER AND DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!" and without another word, he bounded out of the room, leaving his brother and Clow to stare helplessly in his wake.

Clow turned to run after him until he felt a gentle pull on his robes. "Don't." Yue whispered, joining his master at his side. "It won't matter if you do."

Sighing hopelessly, Clow nodded and turned his attention back to his other 'child'. "I suppose you're right," he whispered, letting his fingers play through Yue's unbraiding plait.

"Clow," Yue began more seriously, "You have to go to a town called Godstone." He whispered.

"Godsto—why?"

"Because," the frail youth began softly, "that's where the town physician has gone."

"Hawkins…" Clow whispered softly. That's what this was all about. Yue had done all this for him… to make him happy again. But surely he didn't need Hawkins, he had had other company now, a little family once Cerberus came around… did he still need the good doctor and his philosophical conversation, or his bachelors' advice?

"He'll be there for the duration of the Advent season according to the townsmen," Yue coaxed softly, now almost too close to bear. "Please go."

"Yue," Clow stuttered meekly, "Godstone is all the way in Tandridge, all the way across Surrey…"

"Please," Yue begged, his voice now barely audible to any beyond about a foot away. "We'll be fine here."

At last, defeated, his will bent by Yue's Clow agreed. Before he headed off to bed, the tired and strained Clow Reed made one more stop, by the bedroom that Cerberus shared with his brother. When he arrived, the beast appeared to have collapsed into a peaceful slumber, and no matter how Clow called, would not awaken. Assuming his sleep genuine, the wizard left the room, unbeknownst that the great leonine beast was crying silently on his pillow.

…

The next morning, Clow grudgingly left the manor for the first time since his arrival more than a year before. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that this was a bad idea, but Clow was starting to realize that until his quarrel with the good doctor was settled, there would be no rest in his house—Yue wouldn't let there be rest, as long as he was unhappy. "I won't be gone long. " He promised, "I just need to talk to him…" Halfheartedly, Cerberus rubbed up against his legs, covering them with a fine coat of orange fur, and he was off.

Later that night, McKinley's storm, the blizzard of the century, struck the town of Lightwater. All around, the city was buried, entombed forever in a blanked of heavy snow and ice. Trees blew over in the vicious winds, collapsing with sickening crashes into the fresh powder beneath them. "Cerberus," Yue whispered, apprehensively entering their shared bedroom, a lit lantern in hand. "Cerberus," he muttered, turning to the large lump in his brothers' bed. "Cerberus, please, wake up! There's a storm—"Yue's words (and quite nearly his heart) stopped dead. Cerberus's bed lay vacant, with only his pillows thrust beneath the sheets to give it shape. A note pinned to the top read in messy scrawl:

Gone away.

Not coming home.

Hope you're all happy by yourselves.

-Cerberus

"No," Yue whispered, thrusting his lamp aside. "No, no!" he tore down the hall, reaching the downstairs entryway in a heartbeat. There the main doors stood ajar, and muddy paw prints led the way to the snow covered yard ahead. "CERBERUS!" Yue screamed to the desolate landscape, as he too rushed tou into the storm of the century,

To find his brother,

While Clow Reed slept, oblivious, miles away…

* * *

_*cue suspenseful music* I warned you it was an evil ending! Now Clow's gone and both Cerberus and Yue are caught out in the storm of the century. What's going to happen next? Muahahahaha! I love cliffies; please review! Or else I'll just have to leave you hanging!_

_A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry this took me so long, I had awful writers' block. But I swore I'd get it done before Thanksgiving holidays, and here it. Also, please take note: I AM COMBINING SOME OF THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapters 2 and 3, and chapters 6 and 7 (which were originally meant to be a single chapter, not two) will be merged together, making the next new chapter now #9. Let me know how everyone thinks about this, I'd like to combine them, but I want to make sure it's alright with everyone else first. Now that that's settled, please enjoy the long awaited chapter 10 and its suspenseful ending--Muahahahahaha!_


	10. The Runaway: Part Two

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

* * *

There was snow.

Falling, and falling, it came raining down from the invisible skies above. How nice it looked; how innocent. Each little flake drifted along—slowly, gently—as if someone had put the world into slow motion. Each small puff seemed to be nearly three times its normal size. Big puffs. Big, happy puffs of snow; they were just like little tufts of cotton waiting to be sown. How could they ever hurt anyone? Why, they were so pretty! And so gentle! Why just look how innocently they floated… floated… They were almost dreamlike…

But somewhere in the distance there was an annoying little noise. Tiny, puny, barely worth the effort to hear. It was like a little watch ticking away in a vast dining hall, nearly unperceivable, and yet utterly irritating to the party's one lonely bachelor who couldn't ignore it. But the snow was so pretty. It was so mystifying. How could he ever be distracted by such frivolous matters as pathetic little noises? And yet, the voice started to become louder. It started to draw closer like some haunting nightmare. No. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to stay here with the snowfall. And intently, as if to prove his point, he focused in even more on the unworldly flakes, taking in every crystal, every crevasse. He would see nothing else, touch nothing else, think, feel, know naught but the flakes. And yet, the noise in the distance grew, shrieking, crying out to him. It was becoming like a phantom, like a specter looming deep in the distance, forever haunting the unwary living. Hard, ever hard as he tried, it filled him with its painful cry. Even as the snow around him continued to whisper, to seduce him like sirens with their sultry song, he could not ignore it.

Screaming. Screaming. Screaming.

The voice grew louder. So loud now that every shriek and cry, every merciless note of heart wrenching torture tore through his ears. But even so, he fought against it. No. No! NO! NO! NO! He **didn't** want to go back there! Not again! Though the words were slurred and muffled, though the voice's message could scarcely be understood, the screeching tones ripped at the cool air like a murderous blade. Every note, every sound echoing from the most broken, the most desperate of beings! It could not—it **would **not be ignored.

The snowy scene around turned at once into a wall of ice. In every direction the open sky was replaced with hard stone, freezing and cracking in the bitter cold.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

At the foot of the snow, the frozen barrier against the rock face, a little lion cub cried out furiously as he dug madly into the ice. "PLEASE! SOMEONE!" he screamed desperately as his ruined paws crashed against the unending wall of powder. His breath puffed furiously in the cold air as he worked, staining the atmosphere like smoke as it billowed opaquely from his frozen nose. Each of his vast paws, still digging passionately at the frozen slush before him, had turned black and lifeless beneath his orange fur, stumbling clumsily and lifelessly as he thrust them at the frost. His ears, his tail, and all his appendages, already blistered and cracked were beginning to develop a similar hue as the flesh beneath withered and died from the constant cold. And still he fought on, thrusting his entire body upon the snow hoping, praying that it would somehow give way. But as he fought, his dying feet and his exhausted body gave in to his pathetic situation, and the little lion crumpled hopelessly to the ground.

"Please…" he whispered in desperation to some unknown audience. "Please someone… help us." As he turned to look behind him, the small creature felt frozen tears stream their way down his face. "Please…" he whispered again as he began to cry with such intensity that he felt the drenching water course down his front to the ground below. "My little brother! He's going to—my brother will—" And through his clouded and waterlogged eyes, the small beast could make out the form of the pale young man behind him. Silent and motionless, he slay slumped against the nearby wall of stone, a great deal of fair blond hair cascading lankly about him, and his long white wings tailing uselessly at his side. His skin had faded to sickly shades of grey and blue—seeming far more at place on a corpse than a living being. Unlike his sibling, the boy's frozen breath was clear and indistinguishable against the air, devoid of any saving warmth. And it was this that wrenched at the leonine cub as he watched from afar. "Please Yue," he muttered almost inaudibly, "please hang on…"

…

"Yue!" Cerberus Reed screamed as he woke with a start from the terrible nightmare. Thrusting himself out of his makeshift bed on the hard stone floor, he took a moment to get his thoughts in order as he glanced around at the cave walls surrounding him. Even for his feline eyes it was nearly impossible to make out more than just the simple outlines of the rugged walls and rock forms. The little oil lantern they'd been lighting had obviously gone out. "Yue?" he yelled through the darkness "Yue!?" Inching carefully as he could in his state of near panic, Cerberus located the lantern lying extinguished on the floor beside him, and fumbling clumsily, managed to coax the flame into life. His eyes burning for a moment as they adjusted to the new light, Cerberus blinked about at the cavernous expanse. Every direction the view was the same: stone, rock, and dripping ice-water. His brother was nowhere to be found. Coaxing his still sleeping legs into movement, the dusty and mud-brushed lion cub nervously made his way toward the north face of the cave where several tall, pillar-like structures jutted from the ceiling and floor. Through the narrow path through the vast jaws of rock, Cerberus could just make out the shadowy depths of the front chamber to the caverns. Avery footstep seemed to echo twice as loudly upon the hard, dripping walls, and Cerberus Reed coaxed his tired legs into movement. In earnest, he began to wonder ruefully how it was his brother could have failed to hear his calls. What if…what if the dreams were coming true!? His strained nerves getting the better of him, the little lion tore around the corner, his frostbitten paws flailing clumsily beneath him. As he cut around the makeshift doorway, he felt his shoulder clip the rigid, arctic stone and, writhing in pain, landed gracelessly on the other side of the doorway. Against the far face of their rock-strewn prison, a familiar youth lay exhaustedly sprawled against the vast wall of snow that was their captor. His long silver hair trailed wildly in every direction, and as he slept, his shuddering form clung tight to his long feathered wings, desperate for what meager insulation their thick down might provide. "Yue!" Cerberus yelled hurriedly, "Yue!! Wake up!" The lion pleaded earnestly to his brother's slumbering form as he forced his clumsy feet from the ground, and shook the young man slightly with this wet black nose. Somewhat lethargically, Yue's pale eyes flicked open and immediately turned their (remarkably) sharp gaze towards the odd creature before him. The daggers soon turned soft however, as the reality of the situation dawned, and the somewhat guarded child let his frozen body relax. "Sorry." He muttered, sighing hopelessly and running a hand through his long platinum hair.

"Don't scare me like that." Cerberus whined, rubbing up against his sibling's legs. "I thought that—I thought the dreams were—"

"I know." Yue whispered, drifting his numb fingers through the beast's fur. Though hardly any more functional than Cerberus's arctic feet, the lion couldn't help but give in to the gesture as he felt his brother's slender fingers dance upon his pelt. Shifting his vast paws beneath him, the lion rolled lazily onto his side, nestling his frostbitten ears and frozen face deep into the silken fabric across his brother's waist. "We're not going to get out of here, are we?" he asked penitently, sparkling tears threaten to bridge his tightly squeezed eyelids. "The dreams are getting worse, Yue…"

"Don't talk that way." Yue whispered tenderly, as he reassuringly caressed his sibling's forest of orange hair.

"But—!" Cerberus protested, as he turned and fixed his tearful feline slits onto his brother's amethyst eyes. Before he could get a word in edgewise, however, Yue silenced him with a few strokes across his vast leonine nose, like a father to an ailing child. For a moment, the little lion felt their careful sibling roles fade away as the younger gazed softly into his elder's canary orbs.

"Listen to me," he coaxed almost inaudibly, "Clow trusted me with charge of this household before he left, and I _will_ find us a way out of here."

Unable to stand it anymore, Cerberus tore to his feet, and with a screech nearly dripping with guilt and blame cried "NO!

"Don't you understand?!" The beast wailed desperately, "You won't! You won't find a way out of here!" Salty tears pouring down his front like a river of guilt and self-blame, the cub whimpered helplessly, "We can't survive out here, Yue. I mean, look at us! What am I but some—some oversized house cat? And you—" Cerberus's sentence trailed off as he ran his glassy view over his sibling. "You don't _even_ have fur like me, Yue! You're just as ill-suited for this weather as all of the other people in this village!

"I don't understand these humans," he whined, resting his paws against the snow before him. "Why, _why_, _**why**_ do they insist on living in places like this!? In places where you have to wear a billion layers of clothing or freeze to death!"

"Cerberus," Yue tried to interject.

"No. Yue, listen to me. If I don't do something, if I can't change the future, you're gonna die!" collapsing miserably to the floor, he muttered. "we're both going to die in here…"

* * *

**Chapter 3, The Runaway- Part Two**

12 hours earlier…

The tiny village of Lightwater was hardly worth a mention to most of the people across southern England. As far as usefulness went, the town had little to offer in comparison to some of its neighbors. The larger Bagshot to the west, for example, not only boasted a larger population, but a considerably more favorable position en route to London. In fact so remote was the modest village, that in the scope of all of Surrey, even the riveting tales of the mysterious and wealthy Reed clan could attract little more attention to the outside world than politics to a country farm girl. And it was this bit of information that Cerberus Reed held most dearly to him as he stuffed a last few dinner rolls into his tiny cloth pack and slung it over his shoulder. This would work, sure it would! The small creature reassured himself as he found his way out to the front of the manor's entry hall, and took one last furtive glance about the room. Clow's grandfather clock on the far wall read 10 minutes to midnight; Yue would probably still be in the library at this hour. Good. The last thing he wanted was his precious little sibling getting in his way. If Clow wanted the manor all to himself and his ickle favorite, well that was just fine with **this** unwanted protégé! Pushing against the thick wooden doors which guarded the entrance, Cerberus slipped out of the safety of his manor home, and out into the night beyond. After all, even if he was discovered, who would ever find out but a bunch of drunken villagers? Nothing ever brought interest to Lightwater. High above in the skies, however, a plan of a different sort was brewing, one that would put the name of the little town upon the lips of every Englishman from coast to coast.

By the time twelve-thirty had dawned, roaring winds began to tear across the countryside, pounding at the shudders of the little cabins in the valley below. By one, snow had begun to fall. Within two hours of the storm's beginning, what had once been the village of Lightwater had become the swirling heart of the worst blizzard to strike Surrey in living memory.

* * *

Present, somewhere in Surrey…

Clow Reed hated traveling. He had decided in his life that he would have but one great journey: his move from China to England. Beyond that, there would be no more packing, no more goodbyes, no more trips through the underbrush in poorly-assembled carriages. Yes, if there was one thing Clow was sure of it was that he hated to travel.

"You alright back there sonney?"

Glancing up from his musings, Clow met the eyes of the short, chubby coachman who had turned from his horses to survey his odd new customer. He was a good-natured sort of man, Clow was sure, and had they met in any other circumstances, the wizard was quite certain he would have liked him. He was a fairly dumpy little fellow who only rose to Clow's shoulder at full height, and seemed to instead have gathered all of his body mass to form a near perfectly round figure which bounced and jiggled along with his carriage. He had a wide and dirty face with brilliant dimpled cheeks, and a pair of blue-grey eyes which shimmered excitedly from beneath the brim of his hat.

Making his best attempt at a smile, Clow chuckled somewhat uneasily "I'd be doing a lot better were we in Godstone by now."

Truth be told, the wizard had yet to see neither hide nor hair of the eastern town of Godstone. Perhaps to an unfamiliar traveler this would seem perfectly normal. After all, towns were few and far between out here in the countryside, you couldn't expect an express journey. Clow Reed, however, having already suffered the burden of constant travel across the deserts of China, the Mediterranean of southeastern Europe, and the waterlogged ports of the British islands knew far better the ins and outs of the public transportation system. The heart of the matter was that it was the middle of winter in rural Surrey, where the bridges and pathways were iced over in places, and stormy and wet in the next. Though the season was still early, it seemed there was not a country cabby from here to the city willing to risk his horses at anywhere near a full speed run. Furthermore (to Clow's annoyance) it appeared that in the small, detached villages which scattered the district held little more unity to each other than the warring tribes in far off Africa. From one village to another, small to large, kindly to _kin_-ley, the greatest secret to the congestion of the British road system was hardly the condition of the trails or the animals, but the outright unwillingness of a driver to take you any more than (it seemed) ten miles of his hometown! In nearly every tiny village and town, Clow had found himself stopping, unloaded, and left waiting for a new local cabby to shuffle him onto the next leg of the journey. It was simply annoying but at least, the sorcerer mused, he was nearly to his destination.

Somewhat fancifully, Clow turned his attention away from the back of his driver's chubby and frostbitten neck, and let his tired eyes brush the landscape outside as it rushed past him. The view wasn't much to see. Here and there the frozen ground gave way to the occasional blade of dried grass or the branch of an all but dead tree, but otherwise proved itself little of a spectacle. Perhaps England, the magician pondered, was not so far off from China after all, for there too winter brought about bleak and lifeless countrysides like these, the victims of the bitter cold. Thankfully, though the frigid air often gave way to sprinkling of ice and snow, the winter season had only just begun to unleash her fury. There had been no signs of major storm systems yet over the southern part of the country, though ominous reports filtered in occasionally about vicious white out conditions up north. Shivering slightly, Clow wrapped his furry coat tighter around his shoulders, and leaned back in from the monotonous view out his window.

He sincerely hoped that Cerberus and Yue were having a more productive day than he was; what with near useless drivers and bleak scenery, and unprotected windows to the cold… dreadful. Yue, Clow was certain, was more than capable of tending to the manor while he was away, but Cerberus…The tired sorcerer sighed and, giving in to his exhaustion, his annoyance, and his hatred of travelling, let his eyes glide closed. Perhaps he shouldn't have left, he thought as the image of Cerberus's orange furry face contorted with rage swam before his tired brain. 'Roll over and die!!' it screamed. 'I HATE you…' But even as the little lion's anger consumed him, the weary wizard couldn't help but think of his other son, of Yue. Of Yue who had run all the way to the village for his sake, who had collapsed so reverently before him, who had begged with all his might that Clow go on this journey. Yes, those were peaceful thoughts.

And as his mind wandered off to places unknown, and the little carriage bumped along the frigid ground, Clow Reed drifted off to sleep, with dreams about long blond hair upon the whirling wind, soft fair skin against the pale snow, and a pair of violet eyes sparkling at him.

And the storm over Lightwater raged on.

* * *

10 hours earlier, in Lightwater…

Somewhere high above the vanished village of Lightwater, across the bridge of the frozen river, through the winding maze of leafless trees, beneath the banner which declared 'Magia est immortalis', deep within the heart of Reed manor, a tiny candle flickered. The winds had already begun to pick up by the time Yue Reed had decided to make his way to the vast library at the heart of his substantial home. By half-past-nine, the blizzard was in full swing. Within an hour, most of the roads and hills of the region lay buried beneath a thick layer of snow and ice. Women and children rushed to their houses. Babies cried. Husbands tore from their workplaces in hopes of reaching the safety of their homes. Some of them would never be found.

By a quarter past eleven, all was silent. Not a soul lingered on the deserted mounds of fresh snow, nor dared try to break the seal of their buried dwellings and offices: covered beneath an endless pile of frost. From the trees of the forest to expanse of snow beyond, not a single shred of life could be found amongst the barrenness. If any one thing could have seen it all, indeed they would have thought themselves struck blind. That is to say that as the storm raged on, it became impossible to distinguish between the ground and the sky, between the blanket of whiteness upon the earth, and its fellows which came streaming down from the heavens….

A point which was soon noted by the lone flicker of life against the tundra as he collapsed into a seemingly invisible region of powder snow.

It was now nearing midnight, and Yue Reed had now been out in the white out so long that, with a slight tug of something unpleasant deep in his chest, he realized he could no sooner find his way back to the manor than he could his brother. Coughing up the lungful of ice he had taken in on the impact, Yue stood himself back up in the soft powder snow bank, and glanced ruefully around him. It was impossible to determine the way he had come. "Cerberus!" he cried hopelessly once more—in what direction he could only guess. The cold ice-drenched air stung at his throat as he screamed, and as he forced himself forward the exhausted young sorcerer could only think of the pneumonia outbreak which had struck a neighboring household in the early autumn. Surely that was what would happen to him eventually, with no way to return to the safety of the manor—surely it was inevitable that his rash decision to chase after Cerberus would be one of his final. A gust of wind swirled up at that moment, as if to reiterate Yue's thoughts of inevitable failure, and tore through the now drenched fabric which hung loosely on his stumbling form. Shuddering with the frigid cold, Yue collapsed again to his knees, this time of his own accord. Setting his lantern down on the snow, the hopeless youth drew his cloaks tighter about him as his entire body convulsed with shivers. Only half knowing why, Yue fumblingly reached for his long silver plait as it danced upon the roaring snowfall. Without even being able to see to guide his hands, he ran his fingers along the flailing braid, and having reached its tie, released its strands into the wild wind. As the gusts tore this way and that, he felt no need to unbraid his winding hair as he stood again to his feet and felt it beginning to unwind about him of its own accord. Even with his long tresses now offering some insulating protection, however, and he looked back towards the concept of continuing his journey, Yue once again felt himself struck by the great inevitability of his situation. Still shivering madly in the flurry, the boy began to believe that it must be not only outside, but _inside_ him as well, that the unbearable cold was coming from. As if it were ice water that was pounding through his veins, and gaseous snowflakes rather than air which he took in with each breath. Hell of a short life, he thought to himself as he looked about for the best direction to head in; after all, he'd made it what—six months?

And still he trudged on—to where he had no idea, but it couldn't possibly be any worse than standing around debating his impending doom. (God, he was starting to sound like Cerberus!) The wind began to whip and stir harder, blowing up flares of snow into which Yue felt certain he would drown sooner or later from repeated inhalation. The little lantern cast the surrounding atmosphere into a glowing halo which bobbled and bounced as the roaring wind, and Yue's shaking hands swung the light hither and thither. For what seemed like—and may have been—an eternity, the endless nothingness continued to unfold. But somehow, remarkably—miraculously—just as Yue was beginning to feel the call of surrender, a small flicker of something new appeared on the horizon. For a moment everything stood still. And then…

"Cerberus!" Yue screamed, and tore off in a mad fury toward the snow bank ahead of him. Reaching his destination, the young man threw himself upon the ground and, in a second had thrust away most of the snow surrounding his brother's prone form. Cerberus lay collapsed in what was a rapidly-growing pile of crystals, his black nose and bright orange pelt barely visible beneath the falling layer of powder. In the back of his mind, Yue knew almost instinctively that he must have been lying there damned near an hour at least. Throwing back some of his long hair over his shoulder, Yue leaned in to get a better look at the little lion. As his eyes slowly scanned for any sign of life, the young magician couldn't help but notice the way his breath seemed to melt the unseen layer of frost beginning to develop on Cerberus's fur. Though despite his best attempts, the low visibility and the conflicting sensations of his own heavy breath and bounding nerves made any real idea on his brother's condition impossible to gauge. Praying to some unknown god that his efforts might not be for naught, Yue bent down and lifted Cerberus into his arms. Still young, Cerberus's size had yet to exceed that of a medium-sized dog, and proved none too difficult for even a small man like the barely pubescent Yue to carry. Again moving on a kind of instinctive impulse, Yue hurriedly drew back his many layers of damp clothing and swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. Grasping the frozen cub firmly in his arms, he drew Cerberus's tiny form against his chest. Shivering only slightly as the coolness of his brother's skin touched his bare flesh, Yue hastily redrew his cloaks around the both of them and, lantern once again in hand, peered out into the bareness beyond. Unfortunately with his way back to the manor now lost in the snow , and the blizzard still ravaging from above, both he and his brother were now little better off than before. Indeed, together or not, Yue knew far well that unless he could somehow find shelter from the worst of this storm… they, like Lightwater, would be lost to it.

* * *

Four hours later…

Snap!

The tiny noise had nearly caused Yue Reed to jump out of his skin. A sudden boost of adrenaline pounding through his system, the young sorcerer pushed himself to his feet. With an almost frightening focus, he cast the cold steel of his pale violet eyes across his dark surroundings—from the hard stone walls, to the sharp rock formations, and at last to the shadowy form of his comatose brother on the ground beside him. At last, after a long moment's paranoia, Yue realized the source of the noise: a small break which had appeared near the lip of his glass lantern. The temperature difference must have caused the glass to crack, Yue thought as he turned down the flame. Not in favor of clasping a hand to his heart like a faint maiden, the pale youth instead entertained his relief by slowly sinking against the cave wall behind him until he had reached the ground once more.

Where exactly he had found the saving grace of this cave, Yue could not be sure. It hasn't been long after picking up Cerberus and heading in what he presumed must have been a northward direction (for he had heard of rocky terrain that way) that he had stumbled upon the mouth of this cavern and hurriedly brought himself and Cerberus deep inside it. His first order of business, now out of the wind and snow, had been to look his brother over properly. The steady rise and fall of his sides had seemed a good sign in this order, and as the young man had laid the cub and the lantern together on the cave floor, it was with the hope that the danger to the lion's life was slim to none. Thankfully, he thought to himself, he seemed to have found Cerberus in time to prevent that. His second order of business, now assured that Cerberus was going to be alright, had been to free himself of the drenched clothing which, Yue felt, must have been stealing the life out of him. To this effect he had wasted no time in removing his pair of cloaks and other outer layers and had by this time stripped himself down to little more than his trousers and a silk shirt. Unfortunately, these too were wet, but seemed his only option short of exposing himself to the surrounding cold entirely. His other garments he had spread across the floor in the wide chamber just behind where Cerberus lay, and it was his sincere hope—as he sat shivering on the stone floor—that perhaps here separated from each other they might dry a bit faster and allow him more coverage.

There was also another problem beginning to brew for the pair. As the storm raged on outside and the snow began to pile higher, Yue had discovered with slight concern that the entrance to their cavern had now clogged completely with snow. Though he was sure this would be of great concern later, it mattered only slightly to the blond youth at the moment. For the time being it was monumentally better to be sealed up in a cave than trapped out in the raging blizzard conditions. Sighing to himself silently, Yue turned his eyes to where Cerberus slept by the lantern and slowly… felt himself… edging off into a light sleep.

* * *

One hour later…

Cerberus woke with a start. For a moment that was all there was to say on the matter, for, it seemed, the better part of the little lion's mind was still back in that awful cave of his nightmares. Gasping for breath, the small cub noted that even in the extreme cold around him, an icy sweat still bathed his face. What had just happened?

The oddest thing was he only vaguely recalled having fallen asleep in the first place. Something about cold… and wind… snow, and then there was simply nothing—except of course for the nightmare. It had been a strange nightmare too, Cerberus thought as he reflected back on it. He hadn't been outside anymore, but deep inside some very dark place. Yue had been there. This too was utterly unfathomable to Cerberus's still scrambled mind as his little brother was about the last person Cerberus wanted to see at the moment, and it therefore seemed inconceivable that he would pick _Yue_ of all people to dream about. They hadn't been in the manor either, which too was out of place, but wherever they were he remembered that it was very, very dark.

The surround, it had appeared, was almost solid—a single entity just formed together in a room-like shape. The only light he has remembered being able to see was a soft orange glow—where it had come from the slightly confused beast had not been certain. Through the faint light he recalled being able to see his own front paws on the icy stone (was it stone?) floor. Looking almost frozen solid in places, he'd not dwelt on these for long, and instead started to slowly turn his gaze upward. Yue had been slumped up against the far wall of—whatever this place was. The sharp lines of his face were hallowed by the shadows, and in the faint illumination his complexion seemed almost slighter than usually. Why Cerberus had bothered to notice these things, he could not fathom. After all, hadn't his last words to his little brother been 'roll over and die'? Why should _he_ care about the bloke's condition? But the Cerberus of his dream did seem to care, and he edged closer to the weak teenager with fumbling feet.

Upon closer inspection, Yue was hardly looking his usual perfect self—even his brother had to admit. From head to toe he was shaking like mad. His eyes locked seemingly blank on a far piece of rock, it was almost as if someone were running an electric charge through him which had frozen his convulsing body in that position. His long white hair was not pulled back, but streaming down his sides damp with snow so that the strands stuck together. In fact, Cerberus had noticed with a prang of something unpleasant, Yue was drenched all over. His silken shirt was almost transparent with water, and it stuck to his ribs unnervingly such that they could nearly be counted as his chest rhythmically expanded. In light of his frigid condition, his hands had become red and puffy from exposure to the cold, the tips of his fingers beginning to take on a darker bloodless hue. His skin color too was showing signs of the long freezing temperatures and indeed now seemed an even more pale color than his silvery-white hair. As Cerberus watched this, he felt a kind of sickness edging its way into his stomach, as though somehow this was more than a nightmare of a cold December day, but rather a real and potentially dangerous situation. Perhaps even one… he should feel guilty about. Why he should have felt that way, his dreaming brain was apparently unable to process.

"I'm sorry." A tearful voice had whispered—his own voice, echoing from his dream doppelganger. "Yue, I'm sorry."

And then there had been everything.

Even as he had awoken panting, the words seemed to echo in his mind. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I'm sorry._ It was as though a chorus of specters had chosen those terrible words as the refrain of an even more ghastly song. Shaking his head slightly (As if this would shake the nightmare from his mind), Cerberus at last allowed his senses to begin registering his surroundings…And he was nearly sick again.

In every direction stone walls spread—like a cave or a den which one might find in the hills, but also startlingly similar to the odd setting of his horrendous dream. Frightened and confused, he leapt to his feet, and nearly ran into the small lantern beside him in the process, and cast a wide shadow in the soft glow it cast about the walls.

"You're finally awake." A deep voice muttered from somewhere to his left. Though without its usual sarcasm, there could still be no mistaking that voice. Whirling around, Cerberus came face to face with his younger sibling.

"Yue…" he muttered in disbelief, "Yue, what…?"

"You collapsed," Yue explained rather more gently that Cerberus would have imagined him capable—or perhaps willing. "In a snow bank. God," He sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, as though some incredible stress had long been descending upon him and was now only just talking its toll. "It must have been hours ago now."

He looked nowhere near the broken creature of Cerberus's dream—at least not _yet_. But either way, the sheer reality that he was _here_ and in a place like _this_: exactly like his dream…It nearly made Cerberus's heart sink to his knees. A long silence followed, a long silence in which Cerberus Reed couldn't even think of a word to say. It were as if English had suddenly become a foreign tongue—like all of those manuscripts Clow sometimes poured over. At last, once the sound of twin breaths and the flickering lantern had echoed sufficiently alone throughout the chamber, he managed to form a single word: "Why?"

Before Yue could even begin to string syllables together in response, however, Cerberus's linguistic skills seemed to come back to him in a flood. "Why? Why! Why did you come after me?!" He cried, his voice reverberating across the expanse. It wasn't an angry cry, but rather one filled to the brim with a flurry of emotion which neither of the Reed siblings appeared able to fully comprehend. "I don't understand!" he shouted, tears flowing from his eyes and tearing their way along his short fur.

Slightly stunned by his sibling's reaction, Yue nearly tripped over his words as he slurred them into the open. "I-I know you didn't want to be found, but-"

"That's not what I mean, you idiot!" Now much heavier breathing filled the air. Both brothers stared at each other in disbelief and shock, their steamy breath coating the limited air between them and staining it a foggy white. "What I mean is…" Cerberus said at last. "What I mean…"

His legs giving way, the leonine cub collapsed in agony—in hopelessness—on the solid ground. Not entirely sure what he was doing, Yue stood and sat himself down where the creature lay. Slowly, uncertainly, with his hands now shaking slightly from something other than cold, he allowed his own body to reach his brothers, gently stroking his fur in an attempt at consolation. "You're wet." The lion mumbled dejectedly, his previous notion abandoned.

"From the snow." Muttered the reply.

"Yue, please," Cerberus whined softly. "Take care of yourself." The pair gazed for a moment into one another's eyes and, almost inexplicably, understood each other. Without saying another word, Yue rose from the ground and walked a short distance behind them to where a gathering of his drying outer cloaks laid spread across the ground. With only another glance back at his brother, he slowly began to unbutton his silk shirt, and slowly pull back its soaking form across his shoulders. The cloth hung heavy on his limbs as he slid it across his flesh, and stuck to his arms almost like sap—as if the freezing water-drenched fabric were not yet ready to relinquish its deathly hold on his body. The cold stung his skin as he let the first garment fall to the floor below, but at the same time knew he would be better off with the wet linens away from the rest of his still-heated form. All the time he could nearly feel Cerberus's gaze from behind him, looking onward with his suddenly wizened concern.

How could it be, Yue thought shakily to himself, that his brother could so suddenly know the very debate he had been having with himself concerning his wet clothing upon arriving to the cavern. It was almost inexplicable that Cerberus, the same Cerberus who had stupidly seen no danger in throwing him off a cliff months ago, could be so suddenly perceptive. Still, the young man said nothing as his uncertain fingers moved down to the fasten on his trousers. What could he say?

Cerberus continued his silence as Yue carefully slipped the thicker fabric down his legs. These, it seemed had been drenched even more by walking in the snow, for as they came to rest at his ankles, trails of water were left in their wake, cascading their way down Yue's thighs to join their fellows below. For a split second's time, he felt he could truly understand now Clow's apparent favor for the boy as the flame light played upon his carefully molded flesh. These thoughts soon vanished however, and Cerberus turned away and back to his contemplations of the dream as his sibling, now standing completely exposed in the frigid atmosphere, groped about behind, water from his garments still shining upon his skin.

Several minutes later, the beast's train of thought was broken again by a movement behind him. His dryer open-faced cloaks now wrapped loosely around him, Yue settled himself on the ground beside Cerberus and, shivering slightly as new parts of him were introduced to the frigid stone, whispered "Now tell me what this is about."

* * *

Present

After his somewhat dramatic outburst in which he had prophesied their absolute doom, Cerberus Reed had settled down somewhat. He had now returned to contenting himself by lying across his brother's sprawled legs, his head and frostbitten ears resting very near the boy's waist. Giving up on hopes of insulation, Yue had let his wings vanish away yet again, and now lay with his shoulders leaning against the rock face, his robes long forgotten parting down the front and exposing a sliver of his pale core to the frosty air. As perfectly as if planned by a modestly-minded sculptor, however, the long trains of these fell perfectly between his legs, and piled up a soft cushion which Cerberus had soon taken advantage of at his waistline where he slouched upon the ground below.

As he cuddled close to his sibling, Clow's little lion again felt his mind wandering to his dreams—his visions he supposed, though he liked not to call them that. Since that first in the cave, they had continued coming sense and would, he feared not vanish again until he could somehow find a way to get himself and Yue out of this situation. (Or, he pondered more ominously, when there was no him to dream anymore.) The storm, they assumed, must have long since subsided, but even so, the bitter cold and the encasing wall of snow which it had left in its wake proved as great a threat as the blizzard itself. The cold can be a terrifying thing, he mused, when everything seems to like living at such a warm temperature. Perhaps that was why the trees decided to just drop their leaves in the winter months, perhaps they just didn't want to deal with the stress of fighting through the hypothermia. He'd have to look into that one when they got out of here. If, he thought, his eyes falling briefly on the pile of snow which obscured the entrance to the caves, they ever did.

Just as Cerberus was thinking these thoughts, Clow Reed jolted out of his nap miles away.

He was at last in Godstone.


	11. The Medic and the Magicians

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

_AN: Hey guys, I'm back. I'll make this quick since this chapter is so long. Sorry for the delay, I know I said this'd be up last week, but the length of it killed that plan. To Thimble: Sorry, Snow would have been a really good guess, I even thought of it myself, but I think I'm going to stick to the cards in the manga, so they won't be creating Snow today :). I might consider doing a few cards from the anime if anyone really wants them, though; let me know. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 4, the Medic and the Magicians**

A cool breeze swept over Godstone village, a tiny speck on the eastern edge of Surrey. To be assured, it was nothing quite so devastating as the storm raging still that very moment over Lightwater, but the creeping cold was still enough to bring a shiver down the spine of its newest stranger—just popped in for the holidays.

The fellow in question, a young slender man of about medium height, stood on a small sloping hilltop, gazing down towards the frozen tributary beneath him, and seeming rather meditative. He was leaning against one of the small trees which edged the ravine over the river below, and had bundled himself up accordingly to the slight chill. The majority of his form had vanished beneath a large mud-brown overcoat, which streaked down his body until it nearly reached his ankles. Around his neck, a wooly scarlet-colored scarf was wound loosely about so that the lower half of his face was also nearly buried beneath it. Upon his head, a matching blue and red knitted cap completed the ensemble, as it pressed his golden blond curls tightly against their owner's ears. Despite all this, however, as he stood and glanced pensively over his shoulder to the icy view beyond, Dr. Benjamin Hawkins still felt positively frozen to his very core.

Though he liked not to think of it at the moment, the doctor supposed deep down that the frigidity he felt had little to do with the surrounding atmosphere. In fact, the doctor liked to think of little right now, spare what little distraction he could gain from the bleak and hibernating forest around him. Although he had originally fled to his aunt and uncle's house here for relief, that was scarcely anything the wired physician had been able to find since he'd arrived. Indeed, the cheery voices and bright colors of his relatives and special guests, the smell of maturing mead from his uncle's cellar (and, most particularly, the numerous occasions when these both combined) had, rather than jolly distraction, brought Hawkins little more than a dizzying experience. More than once he had had to excuse himself from these gatherings, hiding in the darkest and quietest corner of the house he could find just to keep his head from spinning with all the noises and sound… Indeed he was starting to feel quite like a drunkard who hadn't known when to go home!

Yet Hawkins did not sigh to the wind as he avoided these thoughts. In fact he didn't do much—think much at all anymore. Not since that night…

Unwillingly, the view beyond swam before the doctor's eyes. Like an old pro, the man in question didn't move a single muscle—not even so much as a twitch in surprise as the frozen Godstone wood around him became instead the dark forests about Reed manor. Now the doctor did sigh. This was happening quite a lot now, and he dearly wished it would just take a rest. But the trees around stubbornly retained their sudden appearance of foliage, and the sky above its new hue of inky black. Hawkins of course knew the scene well. Though the woods of Lightwater truly looked the same on many occasions, there was no doubt in his mind that if he chose to explore the new scene playing out before his eyes, he would recognize it was the early morning, the first day of July.

Closing his eyes tightly, as if afraid to look at the unfolding view before him, Hawkins sank hopelessly to his knees. The night of the blue moon had been haunting him quite nearly since he had run from Clow—from Lightwater. It was like a nightmare that simply wouldn't end. As if it were having far too much fun ripping and ripping at his psyche, and had no intention of letting his tortured mind go until he lay dead and bleeding on the floor.

"God help me," he muttered tearfully to himself, as he rocked gently back and forth on his knees. "Help me." And yet no miracle descended from the heavens to come to his pitiful rescue. Or perhaps, not what the man at the time would call 'a miracle'. Somewhere in the dark and indistinct realms of his mind, the inevitable recurring rush of that night began to play—not so much like the moving pictures which would one day be associated with video, but rather as if they were a heated and fascinating discussion going on just behind the doctor's back: one that could not quite be ignored. Even without opening his tightly shut eyes, he could almost see again the dark and intimidating face of the ivy strewn manor house, its crevices and edifices gleaming oddly blue in the moonlight, its cracked carving which he'd not had time to read… All these appeared as phantoms within the darkness of his psyche—both there and not in an almost dizzying way. Even to himself, Hawkins found he could not describe the sensation any better than he could resist it, and was helpless but to let the ghostly images and sounds, feelings and experiences overtake him.

Around and around his head, the dark passages of the manor danced eerily, the shadows from the high windows casting dark shadows upon the surround just as they had months ago. The doctor could almost feel himself tearing down their long, crypt-like abyss, running as fast as his legs would carry him. At least then it felt like he was running, like he was fighting against his own inevitable insanity. But even so, the doctor fought only half-heartedly as the core of the manor drew him nearer. After all, Benjamin Hawkins knew full well what would await him at the end of his run. He knew precisely what it was that lay deep within the heart of the winding maze of dark stone. It was almost as though the entire manor were a many tentacle monster, with its many vast arms trailing away across it, hiding its soft and vulnerable deep within the protective web. And now, Hawkins felt, it had grabbed hold of him, and wound him down deeper and deeper to the heart of the monster, fighting him only as much as he struggled back, like a great constrictor. And so Hawkins let his tired mind relax. It was just another trip to the past. Just another…

Almost in compliance, the immense creature of his tormented memories dragged the doctor almost lazily onward into his visions, into the phantom manor around him.

Even though he could feel his perceived body running along the endless hallways, Hawkins felt as if the journey were moving in a kind of drunken slow motion. It were as though he was in every way aware of his terrified—his _younger_ body it seemed—and yet somehow apart from it, floating like a serene onlooker from behind his own eyes. After an eternity, the ghostly manor at last plunged him deep into its most precious core—the place where the real monster, the real terror which tormented the doctor, still lived,

Just as real and unchanged as he had been that night.

'_Not again,'_ he thought feebly to himself, _'Please?'_

But there would be no release from his insanity as the warped memories around him began to morph themselves into a blurry view of Reed Manor's far north-east wing. Feeling more detached from his own body than ever before, Hawkins heard another voice waver across the expanse as it swam before his eyes. Even as he recognized it, the doctor modern day could scarcely believe it his own, shaking its way across the nightmare-ish air as if it had rushed here from a thousand miles away. _'Please—please don't make me!' _The words uttered from their invisible master as if they'd been borne from a weak and frightened child. _'it would tear me apart, Clow!'_

Deep within his own mind, Doctor Benjamin Hawkins shuddered in disgust as the voice shrilled in its terror. Deep inside him, his stomach churned as he thought bitterly as it continued to wail across the night.

"_And if you let him __**die**__?"_

The doctor nearly leapt out of his skin as the words shot across him, not from within his mind like the others, but from the world—the _real _world—around, and Hawkins screamed with apparent pain as his trance was shattered. Still quivering, and unconsciously groping at his skull (which felt as if it had been split in two), the broken and stunned young man turned to face the voice, and the man, who now stood before him in the snow.

For a moment, the figure of Clow Reed seemed unreal, almost as if he too were a twisted part of the vicious streams of recollections he had just interrupted. Like a rather large angel of death, he was dressed from head to toe quite nearly in all black, a long cloak-like coat drifting over his shoulders, and cascading down his form until it reached his feet. Beneath, his black trousers ominously seemed almost untouched by the snow which fell lightly around them, and his long inky hair, the doctor noticed, appeared likewise dry—as if the while snowflakes found his appearance as foreboding as the young physician and had accordingly decided to fall elsewhere. The only other color in fact that Hawkins could perceive about the man was the tips of a scarlet-maroon jacket visible beneath his cloak and, almost more horribly, a crimson scarf tied about his neck which against the whole ensemble reminded Hawkins almost nauseatingly of blood.

Still unsure of whether his companion was real, (and shivering so violently from cold and fear that he feared his legs would not hold him,) Hawkins glanced up to him from his position on the ground. He attempted to reply, to say something—anything—to convey his shock and surprise. How could he have known? How could he have known exactly the scene that had been playing out before the doctor, the nightmare that had been running through his mind? Try though he might, however, his trembling lips seemed unable to form the words.

Seeming to perceive his company's position, Clow spoke first as easily as if the doctor's unasked question had already passed him. "If you're going to hallucinate, Hawkins," He whispered softly, though the doctor noted gratefully, not with menace, "You should learn to do it silently."

"How did you find me?" Hawkins asked at last, trembling weakly as he tried in vain to stand. Collapsing back into the snow, he tried to hide the grimace of pain as he felt himself land upon the tree's hard roots, but rather glanced as pleasantly as he could muster into Clow's surveying blue eyes. Wordlessly and without answering, the taller ban bent down, his long black cloak sticking to the snow as he went. Gently, and with his face still impossible to read, he swung the doctor's arms around his shoulders and helped him to his feet.

"Yue," he whispered at last. "Yue sent me."

And without another word on the subject, he half-carried his once good friend back toward civilization.

* * *

Yue was bleeding.

Swearing softly, the disheveled youth withdrew his pitiful attempts at tearing through his ice barrier. Sighing and sinking back onto the rather cold cave floor, he tore a thin strip off the hem of his sleeve and wound it tightly across his blistered finger which now bore a small cut across its numb and pale surface. As he turned his attention away from the shallow scratch and back towards his frozen adversary, he reflected aggravatedly how pitiful this situation was.

For all the time he had spent over the past few months carefully exploring and developing his various magical abilities, the whole thing now seemed a rather pitiful endeavor as he sat here hopelessly, trapped by little more than a few feet of compressed snow. Breaking his death glare upon the ice briefly, Yue glanced past his shoulder toward the shadowy mouth which guarded the rest of the cavern. Cerberus, he was sure, had fallen asleep again. He supposed it wasn't surprising; despite the little lion's blatant denial, he was certain that the high emotions and physical insanity of last night had taken their toll upon his elder brother. And, he thought somewhat uncomfortably, he was certain that, somewhere deep in his mind, Cerberus was eager to sleep so that he might continue to dream of the future.

No, he couldn't think about that. That was _not_ the future.

Brushing these confusing thoughts from his mind, Yue resumed his staring match with the ice before him. He had soon taken advantage of his brother's slumber and returned here to the outer chamber in the hopes of finding some way to break through the rapidly solidifying frost. Surely, he had thought, with all his magic had been capable of thus far—of what Clow's cards (which were beneath him) were presumably capable of—there would be some way of breaking the hold of this snow. His first thought, which had come to him vaguely after he had fallen asleep earlier, was that perhaps he could tap into his growing telekinetic power which he had found so much use for lately, and simply blow the ice elsewhere. The theory had seemed quite sound, around the manor he had found that it was quite simple for him to draw back curtains, open doors and windows and similar simple tasks with his magic rather than any physical force. True he'd not bothered to try his hand with anything as large and imposing as a wall of snow, but the concept should still be sound. As he made his attempt, however, it was with a full introduction into the denseness of an object such as packed snow. Building up his power gingerly, he'd caught a brief glimpse as the tips of his fingers began to glow a faint amethyst color against the atmosphere. His focus determinedly on the snow, he slashed at the air, sending a soft violet streak across it. There was a noise of crushing matter and the walls of the cavern had shaken ominously. Then there was nothing and the snow stood as solid as ever, merely compacted against itself by the force of the young sorcerer's magic. Angrily, Yue had tried a few more pitiful attempts at destroying the barrier, the most violent of which had involved igniting half his right arm in a purpurescent blaze and slashing at the ice with the trailing whip of energy, but his heart was not truly in it. After a while he gave up the crusade and contented himself with bitterly punching the immovable blockade.

That was how he had injured himself, however lightly. For a moment he hadn't noticed his bleeding finger (for truth be told the cold had made it too numb to feel properly anyway) as a stark realization struck him. Withdrawing from the wall, a deeply cold feeling slipped into his chest that had nothing to do with the surrounding chill. The snow was solidifying. Now that the worst of the storm had passed, the slight raise in temperature the cave provided was causing the snow to melt—and then refreeze into even more impassable ice. As he tended to his small wound, Yue reflected with a kind of cold horror that if the ice crystals were already hardening enough to cut him, then they soon would develop a layer of hard protection against any of their futile attempts at escape.

Before he had time to contemplate this matter further, however, he heard the sound of sudden shuffling coming from the cavernous chamber behind him, and a weak voice shouting his name. "In here, Cerberus." He called dismally. Somewhat drunkenly the little lion cub toddled into the room, looking gloomy.

"Any progress?" he asked, glancing towards the heavily slashed and somewhat compounded pile of snow that had so far blocked their exit.

Yue sighed and subconsciously drifted his uninjured right hand through his slightly damp and lank hair. "No," responded tiredly, "not unless you consider compacting the damned thing 'progress'." Cerberus's ears drooped at the words and he looked (if possible) even more miserable and hopeless than before. Both to change the bleak topic of the snow and out of genuine curiosity, Yue pressed on. "Did you see something?" he asked as casually as he could muster, while all the while his nerves might have been leaping with anticipation at his brother's response.

"Well, they found us finally." He reported with a failed attempt at a smile. Yue wasn't fooled, and a little more openly depressed, Cerberus added. "Ages from now, we—we were both…" The cub's voice faded as if to avoid the words at all possible, in his brother's mind however, they rang perfectly clear: They were both dead. Well, he imagined, that were inevitable if they were trapped in here for days, even perhaps a few more hours. Truly he had no idea what dying of cold might feel like, but somehow seriously doubted, though they had been out here for hours, that it could creep upon them quite so soon. For one, he felt, surely a dying man could not still think so clearly.

"Yue," his brother's voice interjected again, reawakening the young man from his morbid thoughts, "There is—I mean, you _do_ suppose there's really a way out of this, right?"

"Don't be stupid." Yue retorted automatically.

"I'm not!" Cerberus shouted somewhat angrily, leaping to his feet. "_You_ might have issues with your own mortality, Yue, but I know what I'm seeing!"

"If you want to die then go ahead." Yue hissed back coldly, "I can't speak for you Cerberus, but I know I am not going to meet my end in this cave."

All was silent for a moment, and Cerberus stared at his brother with some kind of strange curiosity, as if he had just heard something highly interesting in his brother's words. "You know…?" he muttered softly.

"I didn't mean anything by it." The young sorcerer sighed in frustration. "I was just," he searched for an appropriate word, "Venting."

"Right," the small lion muttered, more to himself than anyone, "Of course…" before he sank into what may have been a contemplative silence. For what seemed like an eternity, nothing but silence and the dripping cave walls echoed throughout the chamber. Yue hastily turned back toward the icy barrier trying his best to act as if it actually interested him. In reality, however, he knew Cerberus had a point. He wasn't sure what it was that made him so determinedly sure that they were not going to be trapped here forever, but somewhere deep within him he knew that his destiny stretched far past this winter storm… somehow, he _did _know.

After a long while of sitting silently curled up against the rock face, Cerberus spoke again.

"Yue?" he asked tentatively, though still seeming absorbed in his deep thoughts. "What'd you suppose will happen to us when we die?"

Stunned and somewhat uncomfortable at his sibling's words, Yue said nothing, but the little orange cube seemed not to be expecting an answer. "Do you suppose," he carried on as if the pause had not occurred, "Do you suppose we'll go back to before, when we were just free-floating energy in the universe, or… do we just stop existing altogether?

"I guess, " he continued, rolling over and looking meditative, "Once you've been dragged into the whole muscle and sinew thing, there's not really any going back to being unconscious spirits, but…" he paused again, and Yue could tell his brother's yellow eyes were now directly upon him. "I dunno, to just stop _being_… seems a bit too…anti-climactic. So…" his voice trailed off slightly, and Yue felt it safe to chance a glance in his direction. "So what'd you suppose happens to us?"

As their eyes met, Yue could nearly feel himself burning inside with something that felt highly uncomfortable, as if the very gaze of Cerberus's yellow eyes should have made him squirm in his skin. "I-" he whispered at last. "I don't know…"

* * *

It was amazing how well silence could echo.

At least it _seemed_ amazing to the two men sitting at the pavilion. The pavilion at Godstone was quite different than the one Clow Reed was familiar with at Lightwater and, though it was well known that Lightwater was one of the smallest (and therefore most modest) villages in most of Surrey, he almost felt that the place was a bit shabbier as well. Unlike the warm and somewhat cozy setting of the village shopping district, Godstone's central piazza was situated in the backdrop of the somewhat dismal-looking shops and stores so that they almost looked like odd boxy mountains in the distance. Surrounding the space on all other sides was a thin gathering of trees through which the two men had, not so long ago, emerged. In their sad shape, hardly a comparison to old Tom's bar which would have dominated their view back home. Adding to the somewhat dreary atmosphere was the lazy grey-colored skies which, floated fluidly overhead so that no sunlight could be seen all around the town. The occasional pile of snow upon the ground, and the seemingly dead and leaflessness of the surrounding glade did little to make one feel welcome. Although, Clow thought to himself, even in the middle of the summertime he supposed he would be much more at home back in Lightwater.

How long he and the doctor had been sitting there, Clow hardly knew, but the stiffness in his knees and curious coldness of various other parts of his body suggested to the wizard that the pair of them had been sitting on this hard stone bench quite a while now. Hawkins, indeed, seemed at a loss for words, and Clow hardly knew what to say; this had been Yue's idea, not his. If he'd had any inkling what to say to the doctor, certainly he'd have gone and said it sometime in the last five and a half months that had passed since their last true meeting on the morning of July 1st. And so the two men sat, faces freezing, joints stiffening, and the silence echoing.

After what seemed like an eternity, sound at last gripped Clow's ears. It was soft and faint, much like the cooing of some frail injured bird, but nevertheless it shattered the ringing silence. "I suppose," the meek voice began. "I suppose everything is alright back home?" the doctor asked tentatively, his eyes still glued to the grayish pavers beneath their feet. "I mean, for you to come here like this…"

Clow sighed; glad that the void between them was now broken (and that he hadn't had to be the one to break it), but at the same time terrified of the conversation which must follow. "Actually I wouldn't say so." Clow replied honestly. "Cerberus is desperately mad at me, and Yue has recently taken to sneaking down to the village, trying to get us together I suppose."

"I think I can believe that," Hawkins laughed, quite to his companion's surprise. "Although if I were that boy, I think I'd stay well away from Elizabeth Rae."

Clow simply stared in disbelief at the doctor as he continued to chuckle slightly, his pale blue eyes sparkling in the nonexistent sunlight. "I don't understand you, Hawkins." He said at last, the note of sheer astonishment ringing in his voice as clearly as it did his gaze.

"I told you that night, didn't I?" Hawkins replied, making his best attempt at a merry smile, "I don't want to be one of those people down in the village Clow, those weak-minded people.

"I don't want to see you drawn and quartered or those boys of yours burned at the stake;" For a brief moment, something unusual, like a memory flashed momentarily across the doctor's gaze, and deep within his mind, Hawkins saw spontaneously the images he had described. Screams of agony pierced the air, and the clip-clop of horse's hooves. All around billowed clouds of black smoke across the inky black sky, obscuring the stars, and all was ignited by a sickening ember glow. "I'm not…I'm not _that_." He finished somewhat lamely, his eyes still slightly glassy as the phantom of the image floated lazily across his mind.

"Then, why—?"

"Have I been avoiding you?" The doctor asked, returning from his momentary trance and running a distracted hand through his soft blond curls. "Because… that's just what I've got to do right now, mate." For the first time since his arrival, Clow dared to take a real look at his friend, Benjamin Hawkins. For the most part, the man was the same, the same golden curls, the same scruffily beard, the same pale blue eyes… But there was something else in the doctor's face now, something older, something more tragic. His once rosy skin had now taken on a pale, slightly grey color, and he well matched the frozen flagstones beneath them. His hair hung more lankly, and his kind face seemed more lined—even his jolly and sparking eyes seemed to have lost some of their previous luster. The words were tingling on the edge of the magician's tongue, just begging him to whisper them: _'What's happened to you, Hawkins?'_ But he could not make himself say them. And so they sat in silence, until the doctor continued, as if he could read his friend's mind. "I don't expect you to understand Clow, alright? I just—" his voice trailed off.

At last Clow felt he was beginning to understand. "These delusions, Hawkins, these visions…"

"Been happening since the first." The doctor replied easily. "Visions, nightmares, everything under the sun, mate."

"I could—maybe I could help—"

But the doctor's sudden smile cut him off, and Clow Reed fell as instantly soundless as the surrounding brush. "I can take care of this, Clow. There's nothing you can do about this one. This is between me and my sanity; just the pair of us lovebirds."

"Hawkins," his companion whispered softly from his side, "Hawkins, if this has anything to do with Cerberus, or," more tentatively, "With Yue…"

To Clow's surprise, the man beside him laughed heartily at this stuttering comment, throwing back his long mane of curls to the winds. "Oh Clow, it has everything to do with Yue. Of course it does!"

"But—"

Hawkins laughed again, more controlled this time, his eyes on the confounded magician who was now practically gaping at him. "Not the way you think, Clow; it's nothing like the horrors I'm sure you're imagining."

"But," the taller man spluttered, "That morning, you—you were…"

"Hysterical?" his friend offered whimsically.

"Well… What I mean is," Clow began more softly, more seriously, and correspondingly, Hawkins let his laughter and whimsy fade, facing his partner quite seriously. "It shouldn't have happened. I needn't have called you that morning Hawkins; you needn't have seen or done the things I made you—that I…"

"Clow!" Hawkins' voice cut across Clow's stumbling rant like a knife, and immediately the man fell into a stunned silence. For a moment he stared at the doctor, somewhat dumbfounded, but Hawkins' eyes were strong and sparkling again, much like Clow had known them to be before—in their days before Cerberus or Yue, before magic or theories. With the same fire and intensity which burned in his icy blue depths, the clearly broken (and yet oddly empowered) physician spoke. "Clow, you damned fool, don't you understand? I'm _glad_ you came for me that night! I'm _happy_ that you showed me to those boys! I'm positively _giddy_ that you locked me in there with Yue! Don't you see what it's done for me?"

For a moment it looked as if the wizard in question were about to reply—undoubtedly to point out to the doctor that what it had obviously done was ruin his sanity. Hawkins seemed to reflect upon this too, for his speech broke off for a moment. True, there could be no doubt that it was that night—the night of June 30 and the morning of July 1—which had caused his odd symptoms as of late. Clow didn't know the half of it in all honesty, and in the same spirit the doctor thought he might prefer it that way. Or course there were the visions, the hallucinations as Clow called them; yes they frequented him quite a lot now. But there was also the drunken rush that was now so often his companion, and these new startling apparitions, he thought, mind drifting back to the grotesque image of death that had appeared hazily to him only minutes before. But despite all that, there was something about that night, some wonderful thing. He had entered the manor with determination, so eager to help his friend, but he should have known at the time it would never be that simple. Even as he'd ran so 'heroically' after Clow, the real truth of the matter had whispered in the back of his mind, the reality that Clow lived alone and knew none. Yes, deep down, Hawkins supposed he had known _exactly_ the sort of thing which must have awaited him at Reed manor, and yet he went anyway. He had gone anyway. And thank God he had! Elsewise, if he hadn't seen that boy, Yue Reed—if he hadn't been forced to examine him, forced to discover the truth of the boy's nature—then where would he be now? Still clinging to the small-minded ways of his fellow Englishmen? Still hiding in his little cabin, hoping that nice and safe, away from such taboos as sorcery, the occult, _intelligent thought_? No, he would gladly take his now questionable sanity over that.

If only somehow he could express this to Clow; if only he could convey how blessed this new state was for him—this new, albeit painful, existence. Before he could even begin to articulate these deepest ponderings, however, Hawkins' attention was broken by a stout fellow who had just wandered into the square.

"Oi! Ben!" the little man called as he hurried toward them, one hand holding down his shabby grey cap so as to make sure it didn't fly off in the wind. He was a rather odd bloke himself judging by appearance, and Clow, despite his seriousness, amusedly lapped up every bit of his unusual dress. He was a very short man, even below the height of most ladies Clow had seen—in England _or_ abroad he imagined. He had a great deal of flyaway ashen brown hair which wisped here and there from under his hat as he ran. He had a fat little round face, and large watery brown eyes which gave every impression of an overly-excited hound, and plump ruddy cheeks which stood out prominently against the snow. His grey jacket, matching his hat was either poorly sewn together or inside out, and as he removed his hand from his desperately clinging hat, it was to reveal an outrageously turquoise feather and a large hole where it looked like someone had given the cap a good punch.

"Ben!" he cried out again, rushing up to Hawkins, looking simply giddy at the sight of the tall, slender blond. "So it is true! You have come to town! I'd only just heard. Been out on business you know down by the coast—terrible weather there, very wet." He said all of this very fast, and with a voice that sounded high and almost squeaky. Clow again found himself thinking of a small yipping dog.

"I'm only here for the holiday, Perkins." Responded, disappointed in the interruption, but nevertheless smiling at the sudden arrival. "Then it's back home for me."

"And who are you?" the man called Perkins asked curiously, at last seeming to notice Clow.

"Oh, Perkins this is Mr. Reed, a colleague of mine. Clow, this" he nodded somewhat uncomfortably. "Is Lucian Perkins." His voice spoke heavily of apology as he introduced the bouncy little man, and Clow couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the predicament.

"Ah, Lightwater as well is it?" he asked politely, turning to Clow. "Well my you boys are lucky you decided to pop down our way!"

"What do you mean, Perkins?" Hawkins asked, his brow becoming slightly furrowed.

"Why my dear boys! Haven't you heard?" He looked concernedly from one man to the next, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he did so. Seeing the confused look on both their faces, he seemed shocked. "Well, my God, Lightwater—it isn't there anymore is it?"

"What?" Clow asked at once, leaping to his feet, his heart suddenly beating very fast beneath his breast. "What do you mean it isn't there anymore?"

"Ya really haven't heard?!" Perkins exclaimed, his wide puppy eyes growing even larger, "The whole village's been struck down by an awful blizzard—just blew in out of nowhere! The entire region's been declared a white-out! There's nothing left, the whole town's been buried under the snow!"

For a split second, Clow froze solid. He couldn't move, couldn't think, he scarcely dared to breathe. Lightwater…Lightwater was _gone_!?

"Clow, come on." Hawkins voice whispered from somewhere beside him, and a strong pair of arms urged him forward. He heard the voice murmur a thanks of sorts to Perkins and then, once they were out of earshot, whisper to him again "It'll be alright, we'll get you back there."

"H-how?" Clow stuttered at last, his brain still too lethargic to complete any complex thought. "It took an entire _day_ to-to get here! How—?"

"If you ride straight through the country, it's only about thirty miles."

"R-ride?" Clow asked shakily, still not thinking properly.

"Yes." Replied Hawkins simply. "Ride."

* * *

Silence echoed here too.

Cerberus made this observation as he lay there on the floor of his cavernous hiding place. It must have been ages since they had left the manor, and the view of the surrounding stone walls was beginning to turn monotonous. He was amazed too that their little lantern was still burning. Surly that must mean it had been less than a day. Not that he was too sure how long an oil lamp kept burning, never been the kind to stay up too late reading or otherwise needing artificial light. He did imagine, however, that it surely wouldn't last a whole day… would it? For the first time in what seemed like an eternity the walls and stalactites were not dripping. The only sound now was the soft noise of his brother's breathing, and to Cerberus who had spent hours now dreaming of their inevitable and approaching deaths, it was welcome company.

The Reed brothers had been sleeping in shifts for quite a while now, so as to make sure that they didn't both sleep until they froze to death (and as neither of them had gotten any sleep the night before). It was currently Yue's turn, and Cerberus watched the dancing flame upon the tip of their lantern as it glowed on the far side of the room.

What a predicament they had now gotten into, the cub thought to himself as he gazed toward the front of the cave where he knew the enclosing mound of snow and ice was sitting. All this because he'd decided to run away… Was the universe just out to get him or something? Somewhere out there did the divine cosmos just decide that Cerberus Reed was a good time to pick on? The _one_ time he decided to go off and do something stupid—the _one time_! What happens? A bloody blizzard hits!

Actually, he supposed silently, that wasn't fair to the universe. This _wasn't_ really the first time he'd done something stupid, was it? Cerberus thought back to the last six months of his life; was this really the first time he'd gone and made a fool of himself. The first thing that came glaringly to mind was the previous august when he had pushed Yue off that cliff that overlooked the lake. Sure everyone had come out of it little more than wet and slightly strangled…

But that wasn't true either was it? Cerberus's mind drifted over those moments he, at the time, had been unwilling to notice. Yue's wings had been sprained from the strain of pulling himself out of that terminal dive that Cerberus had sent him into. That was why Clow had made him rake all those leaves: as punishment for being stupid.

Unwillingly, and not entirely knowing why, the little cub felt his mind invaded by sudden images of another night.

"_I __**hate**__you, you __**son of a bitch**__!"_

Cerberus whimpered as his own infuriated words echoed about across his previous silence, screaming, _screeching_ like a madman, like some nutter.

"_I wish you'd never been born!!"_

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Cerberus Reed felt shameful. Against his will, he could feel hot tears burning in the corners of his eyes, and he did nothing to stop them. After all, what was the point of rubbing them away and pretending—to no one, for Yue was asleep—that they were nothing. He glanced over to the place where his brother lay in an uneasy sleep. The lamplight played hard upon his sharp features, and cast an ethereally soft orange color across his normally pale skin.

"_I wish you'd just roll over and __**die**__!!!" _

The last and worst of his stupid, _stupid_ screams had come. And now Cerberus could do nothing for his tears, his stupid guilty tears. Why was he such an _idiot_? Why was it he had said all those awful things? Surely they couldn't be true! Glancing again at his brother through his streaming eyes, the elder Reed boy couldn't help but feel more miserable. Asleep like this, Yue looked perfectly innocent, his pale eyes softly closed, and his long silky hair drifting lazily across his face. It was perfectly true, Yue was an arse! There was just no way of getting around that fact. But all the same, he thought as he watched the boy shiver in his sleep, he wasn't exactly the demonic and heartless creature Cerberus had been trying so hard to paint him as. Hell, that Yue was trying to paint _himself as_ too! Things were not so simple. Perhaps the two of them weren't bosom friends, but all the same, a part of Cerberus knew that he was suddenly glad his brother was born. Glad he now had someone to pick on, torment, and otherwise make hell on earth for. But with love!

"Hey, Yue?" he whispered, though he knew his comatose sibling couldn't hear. "Don't roll over and die, okay?"

So that was that. He was stupid. He didn't think things out well. Well, that could only get better! It was like exploring Clow's sock drawer, he learned then not to stick your nose in a sock!

Now that that was all settled though, he thought, there was still a slight problem facing him. Wiping his eyes with the back of his paw and pushing himself to his feet, Cerberus stood with new gallantry. Alright, time to try things Yue's way; they were **not** going to hang around here any longer!

They were **NOT** going to die here!

As the words plowed across his mind, Cerberus Reed for the first time felt empowered, as if a powerful force were burning within him. Even the atmosphere around seemed to warp at the new found blaze.

"Yue!" he yelled purposefully, his voice reverberating off the hard stone enclosure. "Come on! We're getting out of here!"

Blinking slowly back to consciousness, Yue peered through his tired eyes to his brother, now marching his way across the cave to the mouth where the ice wall stood impenetrable.

Within the space of a heartbeat, the proud lion had reached the snow, and, not entirely sure what he was doing, turned to face it like an enemy at battle. He could clearly see the slash marks where Yue had earlier tried to tear at the ice face. Yue's magic was useless here, at least at the skill level it stood now. Clow was away, nowhere near finding them in this mess. But there was one more magician of Reed manor! There was one more bit of magic they hadn't tried yet!

Not completely knowing what was driving him, Cerberus threw all of his fury, all of his pain, at the impassible barricade. The world seemed to be moving in a ridiculously slow pace. For a moment, Cerberus stood there, panting at the ice, his heavy breath curling opaque upon the air like a low-hanging thunderhead blowing in. Before Yue really knew what was happening, he was on his feet, and for some inexorable reason (he felt flustered for noticing) his heart seemed to be beating quite faster than necessary. The curls of Cerberus's foggy breath seemed to be getting darker now, almost like smoke, and Yue felt it rush over him like waves crashing on a beach, even from behind. Before either had time to think, or even breathe, the cave erupted in flames, the long curls igniting all at once. Yue was forced to look away as Cerberus's lit aflame, and poured its heat upon the frost. Blinding light from the sudden fire burned his eyes, long accustomed to the cave's darkness, as much as (he was sure) the flames themselves would. For the first time in many hours, Cerberus felt his brow laced with sweat as the heat erupted from him, glowing across the entire dark expanse, and likewise turning the ice and snow into dripping slush. Melting and melting away, within a few elongated moments, the first rays of sunshine peaked through a newly born hole. They would soon be free!

* * *

The hooves of Clow Reed's horse thundered upon the frozen ground, though the man himself scarcely heard them as he thundered off into the morning light. There was a fierce determination about him as he sped across the country side, Hawkins's little chestnut pony beneath him, his long ebony hair whipping wildly on the wind, and his eyes seemed to burn with intensity and focus—as if he'd only just left Godstone—despite the length of his sudden journey. Lightwater now in view, the empowered sorcerer tore past the village welcoming gate, and urged the beast beneath him onward; he _had_ to get home! He _had_ to get to the manor! But as he rushed into what should have been the mouth to a lively and vibrant town, Clow quite nearly stopped in his tracks, his previous determination slowly turning to apprehension. Despite his oddness, that bloke Perkins certainly had one thing going for him: his information was sound. Lightwater was gone.

Slowing the horse to a walk, Clow surveyed the snow-covered wasteland which (he assumed) had once been his home. It seemed utterly impossible—he'd been sure the man must have been exaggerating! But as he scanned his eyes across the landscape, it was only the tops of snow-covered roofs, peaking over the mounds of ice like islands dotted across a vast sea, which met his gaze. All across what should have been avenues, and shacks, and the warm pavilion piles and piles of snow now lay, such that the entire town up to at least several feet was buried beneath an impossibly immense snow fall. All the doors and windows (of what buildings remained fully intact from the storm) had disappeared beneath the slush, and Clow couldn't help but think of what must have become—or be becoming--of his neighbors within. It seemed as if overnight, the village of Lightwater, Surrey had become a ghost town.

For a moment, Clow could do nothing but stare in shock, his mind as frozen as the ground beneath him. Then reality came hurling back at him like a great flood: The manor! What had become of the manor?! Without a second thought, or a glance at the morbid scene, the dark magician turned his horse and thundered off in the direction of the bridge, trying his best to ignore the carnage of buried and ruined buildings as he went. At the river bank, however, he was forced to stop himself again. The old watermill beside the river was still partially uncovered by the snowfall, its dual pointed roof sticking up oddly like a pair of peaking cliffs, and the top of its water wheel waving oddly in the wind as the rest of its body remained locked and frozen in place by the ice below. Beside the little wooden building, however, there lay no sign of the bridge which usually lay across the river. Clow swore loudly into the roaring wind, his voice carried across the deserted river bank. If the bridge had collapsed in the snow, then—!

Running a hand through his hair and suppressing a strong desire to kick something, the wired wizard forced himself half-heartedly into a kind of calm. There was a simple and logical solution to all of this, he was sure. The bridge had been blown out, his village had been devoured by some damned blizzard, the clear blue-grey skies above were shining mockingly down upon the wreckage like some sick, demented undertaker—! But surely, _surely_ there was a logical way to go about this!

He needed to know what was going on up at the manor, that much was certain, Clow thought calmly to himself, trying his hardest to avoid the awful guilty pain that was infringing upon his mind. He never should have left! But that didn't matter now, it didn't matter now. The manor… Clow reminded himself frustratingly, the manor! The manor was on the hill, his tired, shocked, and strained brain managed feebly. Though momentarily scolding himself for this level of thinking, Clow took it in stride, stroking the horse's mane absentmindedly with on hand as he did so. The manor _was_ on the hill, yes, but wasn't the vast and sloping lawn which surrounded it just as open and vulnerable as the town below? Were Cerberus and Yue now trapped as well beneath feet of the heavy frost just like the townsmen? Damnit! He needed to know for sure!

Punching the air in his fury, the strained wizard contemplated what few options he had at the moment. The waters of the river had frozen for the winter season long ago, there was a chance they might hold him even without the bridge… But at the same time, if his home too were buried, or, Clow's stomach churned sickeningly at the idea, if it were _damaged_! If Cerberus and Yue were trapped inside a freezing and crumbling building, if he needed to go for help, he needed to know now!

Before he could contemplate this any further, however—before he could even begin to imagine what terrible fate he might have left for his 'children' by running off to Godstone, a sudden energy shot across Clow like musket fire. As if urging him on, as if offering him a last chance of hope, _redemption_, the strange new aura seemed to warm the sorcerer from within as it swept across his senses. It was a brilliant radiant energy, new and unexplored—and yet oddly familiar all at the same time. Clow closed his eyes, letting the sensation fill up is exhausted and anxiety-ridden body, and then it struck him, out of the blue: Cerberus!

* * *

Giving one last puff of smoky breath, Cerberus collapsed exhaustedly to the ground. All around him the archway of the unmelted ice dripped upon his panting form, rewetting his fur in the cold, but it didn't matter, he thought as lay with his sprawled front half out of the cave, they were free!

"You did it." A soft voice beside him whispered in wonder. Crouching down on one knee to properly examine his brother's miraculous handiwork (either not remembering or not caring that he was wearing nothing more than robes which parted down the front), Yue stroked one of his long-fingered hands down the side of the newly formed hole the lion's flame had made in the barrier. Where the flame had touched the slush, the ice had become smooth and clear, flowing around the scorched opening as if it were moving water set suddenly still. "It's beautiful."

Cerberus decided it better to take Yue's word on this subject; he suddenly felt exhausted, and was much more content to lie there panting and soaking up what he presumed at last to be glorious sunlight. Heat still surging through him like an adrenaline rush, he almost felt warm despite the fact that he was now out in the icy wind and ground of glistening snow. Thinking of the journey to the manor ahead of them, Yue attempted one glance toward these pure white peaks which rolled like plains all about them, but the sting on his dark-adjusted eyes forced him to turn away. It were as if the solid range of snow had taken in the weak and parted sunbeams, and turned a spotlight upon them. Before he could point this out to Cerberus, however and the wait that would presumably ensue for their eyes to adjust, a large, shadowy shape came blurring past their cave. Cerberus yelped and withdrew his paws inward, and Yue fell back into the cave so fast he might have received an electric shock. Meanwhile the shadowy figure drew his horse to a sudden stop, sending snow flying at its hooves, and leapt off the animal's back.

"Cerberus!" A strong, masculine voice called from amidst the dark obstruction. "Yue!"

Yue very nearly yelled something indecent as he hurriedly crossed his cloaks across himself, hiding as best he could anything below his chest from view and looking simultaneously very flustered. Cerberus on the other hand perked up immediately at the sound of the voice, his previously drooping ears shooting up like a pair of spring flowers. "Clow!" he called excitedly as he could, the bulk of his body still lying flat upon the ground. Within a moment, Yue had regained his composure and pulled himself back to his knees in time to see Clow's wind-whipped face appear in the hole Cerberus's fire had cut in the ice. He looked worn and tired, dark circles just barely visible beneath his askew glasses, and his hair befitting of Medusa. All the same, it was the obvious relief in his voice when he muttered thanks to something the Reed brothers couldn't quite make out which was most disconcerting. Wordlessly, he held out his hand and helped Yue thorough the raised opening in the frost. "Come on, Cerberus." His brother whispered, and without another remark, grabbed the small cub around the middle and hoisted him too into the brilliance of the open snow.

"Whoa." Cerberus commented after he had settled into Yue's arms and taken a blinking look at their surroundings. The snow seemed dominating. In every direction about them, the glistening, glittering, white expanse was the only thing visible. From all the three magicians could tell it could have carried on forever. "Did—did all this fall during the _storm_?" he asked in astonishment.

Clow didn't answer, but instead busied himself with gathering up the lantern and the rest of Yue's still drying garments onto the back of the horse. Yue, however, held less of his brother's awe at the endless powder around them, and as Cerberus's furry little head ticked back and forth like a metronome, taking in the scene from his raised position in his sibling's arms, the young teenager watched Clow with equal intent. If Clow had rushed back here, borrowed even a horse for the job, something surely was wrong. What had he been expecting to find when he discovered them that he was so thankful he did not? Did the older sorcerer, like Cerberus, know of some impending disaster, some terrifying circumstance which would make him fear for their safety? "Lightwater." Clow froze momentarily as the word was spoken. "Clow," Yue began again, "How did Lightwater fair?"

The man in question said nothing. Even Cerberus seemed to sense something uncomfortable of the situation, for he turned away from his merry survey of the surroundings, and turned, looking somewhat more concernedly toward where the wizard stood at the horse's flank. At last, sighing, Clow knew he had no choice but to speak. "Gone." He said at last, solemnly, his eyes fixed unreadable at his feet. "Roofs caved in, all exits obscured from homes—some…completely buried." Unconsciously, Yue drew his brother more tightly to his chest, thoughts of what must have become—or _be_ becoming—of the trapped villagers running so clearly through his eyes that Clow found it much harder to continue tightening the horse's saddle unconcernedly. He let the saddle buckle fall limply in his hand only half secured, his eyes falling guiltily toward the ground again. No one spoke. All around the wind danced, singing a secret song across the wilderness which only it and its fellows could understand. As it picked up all around them, it swept up the trailing strands of Yue's pale, shining hair—by now damp at the ends from lying so long on the snow—and as his long tresses whirled together, dancing to the wind song, Clow was struck, even in his misery, of the young man's beauty. He was like the snow all around them, the same fair hue, and with the same brilliant glimmer as his hair danced about him on the breeze. And like the snow, he seemed ever more lovely as he became ever more tragic. It was an odd thought to have, Clow would grant himself that, but all the same, he thought as he stood there rooted and frozen in the snow, his eyes locked almost mesmerizingly into Yue's pale violet, glimmering in the sunlight, it made some kind of crazy sense. Though neither could have fathomed it at the time, it was a sorry truth which Clow would discover again and again such that not even his own death would eventually save him from the torment. It would eventually become the thread that would both make, and then break forever, their relationship.

But of course none could have known these bleak truths of the far future, and the next voice to break the silence was Cerberus's. "Is-isn't there something we can do?" He asked, his voice wavering uncertainly, as if he could somehow sense that the grave seriousness between them all were more than remorse at the village's peril. He needn't have feared, however, for Clow immediately broke eye contact, his trance gone, and turned his attention back to the horse's saddle even as the wind continued to gust all around the three magicians. Refusing to let the subject die (and chancing a glance toward the great exit he had just burned in the ice at the cave mouth), the small mane-less lion continued with more strength, "What about that-that Fiery card or whatever? Can't you use that to melt the snow."

For a time Clow still said nothing, but feeling the burn of Cerberus's innocent yet determined gaze upon him, at last was forced to respond. "No, Cerberus, I can't."

"But—!"

"Think, Cerberus! I can't turn fire loose on the town, half of its built of wood, what do you suppose would happen to the villagers then? If-if there even still are any villagers." Cerberus whimpered at this thought, and snuggled himself closer to Yue. Feeling perhaps that taking his frustration out on his sons was not the best way to go about all this, Clow again released Hawkins' chestnut and said more calmly. "Even if we could somehow melt all the ice without burning down the town, it would still leave behind the equivalent in water, the village—the village would be…" At last it seemed the wizard had reached his breaking point. He quickly hid his face from view and let his sentence die on the wind.

"Flooded." A soft voice finished for him. "The village would be flooded by the waters."

"Not to mention," Clow half-moaned with what must have been a bit of genuine sorrow, "I've never used the cards before. Who's to say they can even be controlled—or even activated for that matter, I've never tried.

"I'm sorry Cerberus," the man concluded, taking a few steps forward and facing his little cub directly. "There just isn't a way… to just make it all vanish…" But there Clow's mantra came to an abrupt halt. In quick succession he glanced from Cerberus, huddled in his brother's arms, to the cave where the neat little hole in the ice still stood, and at last to the rest of the snow upon the ground. Perhaps… he thought, it was crazy but, just perhaps…

Not bothering to explain himself, Clow plunged his free hand (not on the horse) down the front of his jacket and withdrew a small bronze key. Before either of the other sorcerers could react, he had cried "Release!" and the area was momentarily bathed with light. Yue shielded both himself and his sibling from the sudden brilliance, but by the time it had faded, Clow had already, inexplicably, drawn a plain tarot card from his pocket, and tossed it into the air above their heads. Suddenly pointing his newly formed staff towards Cerberus's nose ("He's _mental_" the lion whimpered) and shouted "_SEAL!_" There was another great surge of light, and, still unable to fully comprehend what was going on, Yue wondered vaguely how much more shock his retinas could take in one day. For a long time, he thought it better to keep his eyes closed for fear of another flash, but as he heard Cerberus's shocked gasp, the youngest of the trio couldn't help but peer, against his better judgment, to whatever was so amazing before him. At first, Yue thought it quite foolish of his brother to act so shocked, for all he could see at the moment was Clow standing there, feet wet with snow, the odd staff he had just conjured (Yue had never seen Clow use magic before) perched crookedly in his left hand and a ridiculous grin on his face. It was then that that the young magician noticed the curious object perched in the wizard's _right_ hand: in the place of the worthless and beaten tarot there now stood a slightly larger card of red and bronze, a strange jester-like female adorning the front.

"'The Erase'." Yue read quietly, stepping forward (and disregarding the spidery hanzi at the top, which seemed utter gibberish to him). "Another card?" he asked

"Solar." Clow replied joyously.

"I'd imagine."

After seeing that he was set to the ground, Clow turned accordingly to his other 'son'. "Cerberus," He muttered excitedly, for the first time since he'd arrived sounding more like himself. "Do you think you can—I mean—do you know how to use this?" He stooped down and held out the card to the magical cub, who sniffed it briefly as it was set in front of him. 'Do you _know_' he'd asked, the lion in question mused sarcastically, hadn't he just gone over how much he _knew_ in this world? How much more equipped Yue was for tasks of the thinking variety?

All the same, as he looked up to meet Clow's gaze, he heard himself reply "Yes." Somehow, like with the snow, he knew he would be able to do this. Taking a deep breath, and fully aware that both of the other men's eyes were upon him, Cerberus mustered all he could of his power and cried "ERASE!"

The effect was immediate. For a split second there was a flash of whitish light, and instantly a roar of wind and puffy smoke, which had nothing to do with the weather, exploded out of the little piece of paper along with the acrobatic likeness of the woman on the cover. She flipped acrobatically out of the whirlwind of billowy white smoke, her checkerboard hat and tights swirling nauseatingly and her ruffled collar flapping like mad beneath her insultingly short hair, and landed gracefully hovering in the air above Cerberus a long ; she was easily the oddest maiden Yue Reed had ever seen. Though her lips did not move, a moment later he clearly heard her deep echoic voice whisper_ "At your command, sir."_

But before Cerberus could even manage to get his stunned nerves to work properly enough to form words, she smiled and whispered _"Consider it done"_ and all at once rose into the sky and vanished. For a split second, Cerberus stared dumbfounded at the place where she had disappeared, Clow and Yue rushing to his side with equal looks of confusion. Could she have possibly read his mind? And if so, where was she now? Then the three nearly leapt out of their skins as the snow beneath their feet rumbled ominously and began to be sucked into the air. About a foot off the ground, the flying powder vanished as easily as the Erase had done, disappearing instantly in a puff of smoke which too faded away. The horse beside them screamed, and reared back, quite nearly dislodging all the Clow had spent so much time distracting himself with tying down. For several terrified minutes, all three of the Reed magicians lay helpless on the departing ground, Clow having grabbed both boys around the neck, and forced them to their knees beneath him so as to provide some kind of protection. Soon, however, the action began to subside, and, chancing a glance upward, Clow saw that the Erase had not disappeared after all, but instead lay far above them, her mastodon's cape which her picture had contained now spread wide over the vanishing snowy countryside, and her legs beneath her having turned instead into a swirling cyclone. Altogether it was an astonishing sight. After a few more intense minutes, their legs reached solid earth, and Erase, in half a heartbeat, spiraled down as one swirling wind, and vanished with a small thud back into her card from. Smoke still filled the air around them, and for a long time the trio could see nothing of their spoils. As the ground began to become visible again, Yue scooped the even more weakened (though none the less enthusiastic) Cerberus back into his arms, and gratefully allowed Clow to help him to his feet. Though too far away to see—and blocked by fading smoke even if it had been closer—noises were beginning to be heard from the direction of Lightwater. Far away though the village was, the distinct sound of raise voices and banging doors was now clearly audible over the horizon, and a kind of warm swept over the men which transcended far beyond the vanishing snow alone.

"We'd better go." Clow murmured, failing to cover up a slight smile as he heard the distinct sounds of life coming from the little town over the hill. Without a moment to spare, he climbed up onto the back of Hawkins' proud chestnut. "Afraid we'll all be a bit cozy up here, but it will have to do." For the first time, Yue hesitated to accept Clow's over as he extended a hand to help both boys onto the horse behind him, the thought of how little he had on uncomfortably apparent. After only a brief moment's pause, however, he awkwardly took Clow's arm and as gracefully (and decently) as he could muster, swung his legs around to sit directly behind Clow. He looked incredibly flustered all the way home, at least as far as Cerberus, whom Yue was apparently trying to use as a buffer between himself and the older man, surmised.

* * *

By the time darkness fell upon Reed Manor again, it was to a house once again occupied by its three usual magicians: all utterly exhausted. Quite in contrast to the scene of utter chaos both the boys and master alike had experienced respectively through the previous hours, the view of the high sitting room was the picture of warmth and comfort. Sitting high on the second floor, the ground below them was a mercifully warmer wood, and the windows which lined all the walls pure glass behind their crimson curtains. A roaring fire crackled in the ornate gate which seemed to dominate the room, and both of the room's cushiest red-patterned chairs were now snuggled as close to it as they could get without catching fire. In one of these sat the tall and imposing wizard Clow Reed, his unkempt hair combed down a bit now, and drying untied about his ears so that it hung in limp waves along his face and shoulders. Across from him sat the young leonine cub, Cerberus Reed, who was no larger than a medium-sized dog, curled up so that his nose almost touched his back feet. Both of his front paws, curled underneath him, could be little seen at this moment, but nevertheless showed the careful bandaging which had been done upon them earlier in the evening once the family had returned to their warm home. Cerberus wasn't focused on his frostbitten toes or bandaged paws at the moment, though, for while the rest of his body showed every sign of tiredness, his bright yellow eyes were focused pensively on the flickering flame before him. Behind them both, on the far side of the large ornate rug which sat between the men, a long pale ruby-colored chaise longue (which usually sat by the windows by the old grand piano) had been moved so as to also catch the heat of the roaring fire. Across its slightly faded velvet surface, the third inhabitant of the manor, Yue Reed, lay collapsed across it his blistered and frostbitten fingers still dangling into a bowl of slightly warm water. He was considerably drier now in an old grayish dressing gown of Clow's which clashed awkwardly with his pale complexion, and was in many places far too big for him. It wrinkled visibly to rhythm with his slower breath, and trailed far past the end of his legs onto the floor where it joined his long cascade of silvery hair. A soft burgundy throw slithered its way across his back from the top of the chaise, and shimmered enticingly in the glowing firelight. He was obviously fast asleep. This was quite a comfort to Cerberus, who glanced in his little brother's direction before at last turning his attention away from the fire and towards the sorcerer sitting opposite him. There was something that needed to be said, and Yue couldn't be around to hear it.

"Clow." The lion's voice seemed to echo across the stunningly silent room.

Unable to claim deafness, the wizard looked up, his long hair shifting oddly around his face, and met his elder 'child's gaze. "Yes, Cerberus?" he murmured politely.

"Clow," He took one more glance at Yue to ensure that he was truly asleep, "I don't care how mad you are at me, but don't blame Yue for this."

Clow raised a curious eyebrow beneath his glasses, making his appearance seem even stranger. "I never said I was blaming anybody, Cerberus. I doubt highly either of you could have caused a blizzard, at least… not yet. " (He too glanced momentarily toward his other son, but Cerberus seemed not to notice.)

"You know what I mean!" Cerberus snarled somewhat angrily, "You left Yue in charge of the house when you left, but none of this was his fault! I ran away on my own!

"I know what you're gonna say," he continued, clearly voicing something which had been tormenting him since Clow had arrived home earlier in the day. "That Yue should have noticed me leaving, that he should have been _watching me_ or something! But that's just ridiculous! It's not like _you_ follow me around all day! That'd be a stupid thing to expect! He _did_ take care of me; he came to check on me the instant the storm hit, that's how he knew I was gone so soon! He ran out into a blizzard to find me! He saved my life out there! He could have _died_ trying to save me! And in the cave—in the cave…" But Cerberus's rant died there. In the cave, he'd been… different. But how? What could he say? The little leonine creature just seemed unable to find the words.

"Cerberus," Clow whispered, and the confused cub realized that he'd left his seat by the fire and was now kneeling before his own, their eyes almost level. "I told you, I'm not blaming _anybody_." He laughed slightly, "What do you want me to do, Cerberus, punish you?" For a moment, Cerberus laughed weakly too, recalling his previous existence as a leaf-raker. Then Clow leaned in closer, his tone much more serious. "If anything, I'm glad to see you two getting along so much better. It's a far way away from killing each other like you were before. You were both worried for the other out there in the wilderness. Yue was terrified when he found you gone, clearly because he didn't plan his rescue as well as he might have normally. And for you to use your magic…" Cerberus shuddered, he did _not _want to tell Clow about his dreams, "You must have been terrified as well. Why, Cerberus?"

"The cold does weird things, Clow."

"Well said." The magician whispered, softest of all, and to Cerberus's relief, he did not press the subject, but settled back into his high-backed chair.

Perhaps someday, the small beast thought, he would tell Clow of the things he had seen in the cave, or of the morbid and meditative contemplations that had come to him in those hours, but not now. There was, however, one more thing weighing on his mind. "Clow." He began again. Clow sat up a little straighter to show he was listening. "There's… something else." Hesitantly, Cerberus paused, debating how best to go about asking this. But looking up into Clow's intent and encouraging face, he decided he could go ahead and ask directly. "Clow, you're the only heir to all this Reed family magic and property and stuff right?"

Clow seemed slightly surprised by his elder son's question, but replied none the less. "Yes, Cerberus, that's right."

"And," Cerberus glanced back towards Yue, praying Clow would not see. "And you're probably not—getting married or anything, right?"

Clow's eyes narrowed slightly, having indeed caught Cerberus's nervous back glance, and well aware of the implied discussion here. "I don't think so." He replied a bit more carefully.

"So then, if something were to happen to you, who would—you know…"

"Succeed me?" Clow asked, less defensive now with this slightly sager topic. "I suppose it would have to be one of you two. And _you_ would be the eldest, Cerberus, so…"

"No." Cerberus shot curtly, again taking his companion by surprise. "Not me, Clow, never make me the heir. I don't want it, I couldn't handle it. I could _never_ run this household. Not me." Nodding his head toward his slumbering sibling, he finished, boldly. "It should be Yue."

Clow looked flustered, rubbing his temples as if bothered by a sudden headache. After a long and uncomfortable silence, he at last said. "Alright. For now, we'll leave it there. I doubt," he whispered, as if truly buried in thoughts and emotions Cerberus could not recognize. "I doubt it will matter anytime soon anyway." With that he got up from his chair, not nearly as jolly as he had seemed earlier. Normally, Cerberus's poor understanding of the world would have urged him to brush it off. But he understood Clow's sudden darkness perfectly this time. Now, he knew _exactly_ what was going on in his house—and he would never envy his brother again.

As Clow scooped Yue into his arms, and headed for the towards the boys' shared bedroom to lay him down, he paused. "Cerberus, I don't know what you may think, or have seen during your little adventure," He said plainly, his back to Cerberus and his face hidden. "But I will _never_ hurt him." Both men well aware they were speaking of the young man in his arms.

"Yes." Cerberus replied just as darkly, just as ominous and curtly. "You will."

Clow strode out of the room and shut the door with a bang.

* * *

That night, Cerberus lay for the first time in a long while in his own warm and comfy bed. He snuggled deeply into his covers, and laid down against his thick, fluffy pillow, but before he turned to go to sleep, he cast one more glance toward his little brother slumbering in the bed beside him. Images of his last and final prophetic dream in the cave flooded through his mind. A much older boy with long silver hair, a great ginger beast where an out of proportion cub had once been, and a lovely young woman with short brown hair…

There would be pain, he knew it. He knew what he had seen in the far future—Yue's far future—and it was obvious.

Clow and Yue would _**never**_ be together.

… No matter what either would have liked to believe.

* * *

_AN: Again, I'll make this short since that was __**so**__ long. I really didn't want to split it into two chapters though. Let me know whether you guys prefer short or long chapters so I can try and keep it within a range everyone likes. I'm already started on the next chapter, so it shouldn't take nearly as long as this one. Oh yeah, there was supposed to be one more section where Hawkins' situation was expanded upon, but I was afraid for length, so I'll explain his situation better in subsequent chapters, I promise. Please keep reviewing!_


	12. Winter Mornings

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

_AN: Sorry for the wait. I had a lot of writers' block off and on, and this, well... it was a long chapter. Enjoy._

**Chapter 5, Winter Mornings**

Cerberus Reed hated the cold.

Even after being trapped for over a day in the middle of the worst snow storm of the century—and discovering his new found heating ability—he still could not stand the cold. That was over a month ago now. Advent season had come and gone, and nowadays January, like December before her, was winding down. Before they knew it, the entire town would be dreaming of springtime and the coming new year. Ruefully, Cerberus wondered what 1682 would feel like. Could a mere two months really bring so much change? The weather would still just as cold, the trees still just as leafless, and he himself was still no larger than the average sized dog. Perhaps, though, there was something different already about the dying year: a thing that promised new change after all in the new one to come. A thing far poles apart from the sight of hibernating plants, or the feeling of icy cold on his fur. Yes, something had changed between the _people_ of Reed Manor. It was as if the icy walls between them were beginning to fade as the ice upon the ground began to melt for springtime. As if some of the old, childish connections between them were to die right along with 1681.

Yue was a sarcastic and witty as ever of course, a deadly combination, but there was something more behind his dagger-like amethyst eyes. He was much more tolerant now, and what had before seemed like war being waged between the two siblings, their daily arguments and scuffles had come to seem more like a great game—one whose boundaries and rules were at last mutually understood by both players. Cerberus no longer believed his brother 'heartless', partially to the other's dismay, but it seemed as well that Yue wasn't trying nearly as hard to spite him. Something in that cave had changed their relationship ever so slightly, as if they had formed some kind of bond that day that not even Clow could get mixed in with.

Clow had his own issues, anyways. Despite the fact that he had supposedly left town in the first place to find his so-called 'friend', he still seemed to come back from the village every day with the same slightly glum expression. It was all fine and good in the end, though, because at least he had company to come home to; interestingly enough, Clow seemed to have decided that his and Cerberus's conversation in December had ended at the discussion of heirhood. He seemed to have forgotten—or perhaps simply decided to ignore—Cerberus's parting comment to him that night. Indeed, the more Cerberus looked around, the more he saw Clow and Yue together in what once might have seemed to the little lion like happy coincidence, or else favoritism, but now seemed like something more uncomfortable altogether. He knew where this was going, and it did _not_ have a happy ending… at least… not the way Clow envisioned. He was also sure that Yue, still young and(dare he say it) 'innocent', had no true idea what kind of monster was brewing in his house, nor the rollercoaster it was sure to bring him through… altogether, it was an eventful winter.

It still snowed from day to day which meant that the Reeds' long sloping lawn was likewise still coated with powdery mounds of snow. It also meant that it was _cold_: a fact that Cerberus Reed now regretted heartily as he eased his overlarge feet hesitantly onto the icy ground. It was frankly amazing how cold the floors could be! But all the same, there was still one unignorable fact that was driving him out of the minimal comfort of his sheets this late at night: there were still left-overs in the kitchen. Judging by the deep purplish hue of the sky out of his and Yue's shared window, the oddly proportioned cub surmised that it still must be in the very early hours of the morning. Slinking out of his bed and bracing himself for the shock of cold which was now hitting him unprotected from all directions, he set off down the hallway just outside his bedroom door which led to the grand staircase at the center of the manor. That was the only advantage to living in the smallish bedroom in the very front corner of the east wing, the fact that it was so easily navigable. The manor, Clow had told them, had been built over multiple times since its original purchase and construction by the Reed family. Originally, he said the place had used to be a lot smaller, facing the thick trees and curious grove which laid to the south. They'd discussed this one afternoon when all three of the home's inhabitants had been out on the south lawn. Now that the weather was getting more manageable, Clow seemed to like doing this a lot, and Cerberus couldn't help but think of those summer days the pair had had just before Yue was born.

On one such occasion, they had investigated the curious structures on what was now the back of their rather large home. Unlike the grand flat-faced wall of stone and imposing outer wings which currently graced the entrance to the manor, the back of the building it seemed was rather hodge-podge and bizarre. Cerberus had never spent much time back there at all in the short while he'd lived in his grand home, and found that there was something appealing about the disorder of its rear. Walking around a wide paved path out of the lower east wing, they had found that it connected to a thin, long southern wing of the house that the trio had yet to break open and renovate. Clow had tried in vain to get in through the pair of interlocking 'front' doors while Cerberus and Yue had examined their other surroundings, and had reportedly found the main doors blocked from the inside, and the places where their fellows should have been on the end of a pair of separately sealed off chambers mysteriously absent. This had proven true as well of an old separate building connected to the main only by a curious paved path which led to nowhere, and a plain dirt path out of the south wing. These chambers, Clow had estimated, as well as the central core of the house just before the grand staircase had probably been the first built. Next, he had guessed the main house had been expanded around the core's original outer walls and the east wing added on. The west chambers which began just outside Clow's bedroom and faced Lightwater had been added last.

Altogether, the numerous rebuildings and addings on had given the Reed's unique home a winding maze of hallways and staircases the extent of which no one could be sure. And it was this that made Cerberus so thankful of his little bedroom, particularly when he was wandering around in the cold middle of the night, for it was situated right where the main hallway turned southward into the chaos of the nearly unnavigable east wing, and therefore made it a straight shot for him to the grand mahogany-covered staircase in the heart of the manor and the kitchen he so desired just off to its side. After rummaging about the cupboards for a few minutes, Cerberus managed to find what he was looking for: in a distant cabinet off in the corner, he managed to procure a sizeable hunk of bread and a slightly dry piece of cheese out of the carefully kept collection of what Clow had deemed salvable for the next day. Prize in hand, he leapt gracefully off the kitchen countertop, and landed lightly on the floor again, still thinking. Absentmindedly, he wandered off toward the vast sitting room just off from the kitchen and a formal dining hall which the family never used. It was larger than the scarlet-clad space in the entrance to the west wing that Clow was so fond of, and had a much earthier feel about it. The enormous fireplace which dominated the space was not intricately carved like the face of the one he had sat by after returning from the cave, but rather was a large expanse made of grey stone like the floor and walls of the manor. It seemed to rise out of the matching ground beneath it and the walls around as if they were all part of some living being. Beneath its roughly hewn mantle piece, a few warm embers were still sparkling, and it was to these that Cerberus skipped off toward to enjoy his booty. Cerberus couldn't understand completely why Clow hadn't used this space much as he sat there warming his hindquarters in the gate. It was plenty big with a high raftered ceiling and tough iron chandeliers; like Clow's own sitting room it had a grand reddish ornate rug across the center of it and more scarlet high-backed chairs which matched the chaise longue upstairs. The walls were lined with bookshelves which he had seen Yue sift through from time to time, and best of all—with the enormous fireplace it provided—it was miraculously warm! He supposed its ignorance must have something to do with the greater allure of the enormous library just down the hall, though Cerberus himself would have been much more content to stay in the warm.

After he had made sure to lick ever last conceivable drop of cheese or bread crumb off his paws or the floor (Ya had to be thorough!), Cerberus gloomily set out again toward the grand staircase and the east wing. Having been out of bed so long, the walk back seemed even colder, and the little lion shivered spastically as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. Oh how he despised being cold! Oh great and honorable leftovers! How could you lure him away like this? Into the _**cold**_! Every step onto the icy floor seemed terrible, and Cerberus soon found himself trying his best to tiptoe on the edge of his claws so as to keep his pads off the chilly wood surface. At last he reached the end of the hall and mercifully edged over the threshold of his favorite room in the house (well, actually that was debatable now that Yue had moved in). Before he leapt back onto his bed, however, the eager (and very _cold_) lion cub paused. True it was freezing out here, but it wasn't too much warmer all alone under those sheets—which in reality hadn't been washed in so long it was miraculous they didn't stand on their own! Instead, he turned and glanced at where his brother lay in the bed opposite. Yue was completely collapsed upon his, much more pristine, sheets, curled slightly on his side and dead to the world.

All the better! Cerberus thought to himself as he leapt lightly onto the mattress as well, that was often how he preferred Yue. His brother was most certainly a strange creature, the shivering furry creature mused as he surveyed the comatose teenager in front of him. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the winter, Yue seemed not to care about the frigidity of the morning air. Though he had bothered to pull an old thinly-worn shirt on—something he never did in the summer months—he had still left it unbuttoned, and the moonlight from the boys' full-length window illuminated his pale frame where the thing had flown open. Honestly, could he even _feel_ cold? His covers too were only pulled half way up him, a problem that Cerberus soon corrected as he grabbed the blankets in his teeth and dragged them up to a more favorable position before burrowing headfirst beneath them himself. Yue, whom his sibling often compared to sleeping like a corpse, didn't stir in the slightest as his elder brother, fully submerged beneath the sheets and blankets now, turned himself about and poked only his wet black nose back out into the cold. Knowing well that he might have to pay for it in the morning, but not caring in the slightest, Cerberus curled up as closely as he could to Yue's body—which was surprisingly warm on his cold fur—and, resting his head and his frozen ears against his brother's chest, drifted off to sleep considerably warmer.

If Cerberus Reed were right about one thing, it was that his brother _did_ sleep like the dead. And with the dead he most happily have stayed too if it weren't for the unfortunate calamity of noises that had become his rude resurrection these past months.

Morning had risen in what seemed like no time at all, the bright, newly-born sunshine gleaming in through the tall window in the Reed brothers' bedroom and casting its first glimmering attempt at warming light across the two slumbering boys. Downstairs, the faint noises of Clow clambering around in the kitchen drifted up the grand staircase and down the winding halls of the east wing. The chill of last night's slight frost still hung lightly about the air in the boys' room, particularly where Yue always lay, by the window. Unlike many of their neighbors in Lightwater, most of the manor's tall, framed windows were glass—particularly those on the upper floors. Only a few tall gapes on the outer enclosure of the house, in fact, were bare. Sometimes the young boy who lay beneath its gaze couldn't decide quite how he fell about this window arrangement. Despite their grandeur and obvious convenience in poorer weather, there were many times when Yue, unlike his brother, wished half-heartedly that they could be opened to the morning air. This was one of those times, the teenager in question thought groggily as coaxed himself into some relative of consciousness. Though the frost outside licked the edges of the glassy windows with its spidery crystals, on the interior of the great stone outer walls, there was a lingering air of uncomfortable warmth and stuffiness, which nearly made Yue feel a kind of ill as shifted uncomfortably beneath his sheets. Perhaps Cerberus had finally gone mental in these last few months of cold and lit his bed on fire for heat.

A month or so ago, this was exactly the sort of thing, in fact, he would have expected of Cerberus—the witless wonder who had pushed him off a cliff. But after the December blizzard, there seemed something a bit more controlled about the little cub. For one thing, he no longer bounded the halls in the morning, but truthfully his transformation, Yue grudgingly admitted, ran far deeper than that—as if there were a different kind of light which twinkled behind his eyes now, not with maniacal blaze, but a controlled and gleaming burn. He sometimes wondered to what extent his brother had seen their…distress… on that chaotic day, what exactly he had been made to see and believe as if it had been right there before him… The still-sleeping sorcerer squirmed slightly under his sheets at the thought. He wasn't sure exactly why, but following the storm a month prior, Yue was steadily finding anything reminiscent of his own mortality made his stomach churn uncomfortably (which of course only added to the problem). It struck him at odd moments, and oftentimes not at all, as when he was out shooting, but in the curious sticky heat now surrounding him on this relatively cool winder morning, the terrible sensation was already beginning to coax him into wakefulness.

The first thing the tired magician noted as he began to force himself conscious, was that it was not the cool air he felt against his bare skin—nor even the sultry warm air that would come had Cerberus _indeed _set his bed on fire—but the heavy, suffocating heat of many layers of cloth upon him. He could only imagine that it was his elder sibling who had drawn up his blankets as Clow generally slept at the opposite end of the house, and as he shifted lightly to free himself from their grasp, he felt cold beads of sweat now exposed across his front where he had disturbed something lying directly against his skin.

Slowly, Yue opened his eyes. He was lying somewhat prone on his right side, and as he had suspected, with his deep brown blankets drawn up nearly to his throat. His left shoulder alone was graced by the outside air, and it was apparent that his thin threadbare shirt had fallen back off his shoulders sometime during the night, so that the bulk of the cloth now lay low at his wing joints. The most prominent feature of his current predicament, however, was the wet black nose barely visible over the top of the thick covers, and the corresponding mass lying tightly against the younger boy's still-lying form beneath the sheets. Yue sighed, and as gently as he could muster, drew back the blankets so slightly. Asleep, Cerberus actually seemed somewhat sweet, lying half-curled into a ball with his toes pointing toward the end of the bed and his disproportionately long tail curved beneath him. He was snuggled as closely as he could against his brother's body, his partially arched body following accordingly the long lines of his brother's abdomen. His small fuzzy head he had resting upon Yue's chest just at the base of his ribcage such that his jet black nose could just slightly reach out over the smothering sheets. Replacing the covers over his sibling, Yue freed his left arm and, without sitting up, tousled Cerberus's fur through the covers until the little lion responded with a grunt.

"Pardon me," Yue began with sarcasm—though not unkindly. "But what exactly are you doing?"

"Ugin-e umph au-ub oo ike a eech uz uhd." Came the gargled reply. Unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, Yue lifted the blankets yet again so that they uncovered the rest of Cerberus's muzzle (though the rest of him remained deeply buried in the warm).

"Sorry?" he offered with the same sardonic tone.

Inching his chin higher as to be able to properly annunciate, the uncovered nose repeated, "Sucking-the-warmth-out-of-you-like-a-leech-does-blood." Taking careful measure to emphasize every word as they came. "Now come back here." He added as Yue made to sit up against his pillows, "It's cold out there!"

The next moment many things happened at once. After only a moment's sly contemplation, Yue swung himself out of bed, grabbed the edges of his layered covers, and, in one fluid motion, swept them up into a pouch-like gathering over his shoulder, Cerberus inside yelping sharply as he was whisked into the folds of cloth. "Better?" Yue remarked as he headed for the door, bagged brother still in hand.

"Actualy," Cerberus's juvenilely high voice echoed from the bowels of the sack, "This works pretty good.

"Onward, laddie!" he cried in a horrible mock of a much more reasoned individual, and Yue rolled his eyes as he carried the pair of them down the hallway to the grand staircase.

Things had changed only slightly in the winter months as far as the Reed family's morning routine went. Constantly clinging to the warmth of his bed, there was no more of Cerberus's bounding up and down the halls at sunrise, but all the same, the house was rattled with noise. So silent were the winding and confused halls of the manor now without their small furry companion, that, it seemed, every noise echoed twice as loudly, which meant that every morning the master of the house, Clow, was generally responsible for waking his fellow housemates with his still awkward attempts at busying about the downstairs kitchen.

It was a fact that the youngest of the trio of sorcerers had noted very early on in the season as the clanging of dropped or misplaced pots and pans had soon become his undesired alarm clock in the place of his brother's. Clow chuckled to himself at the stove as he thought of it: as much as his elder sibling loved the early hours, Yue _despised_ mornings. Whimsically, he supposed he could give them both a jolly little speech on how comically it paralleled their respective symbols—it was devilishly funny to see how quickly such talk annoyed the pair. It had recently become a bit of a hobby of the elder wizard's, discovering such stereotypes in his two 'children', and had long ago pointed out with his usual amusedly smug face how odd it was that he could guarantee to find Yue still in the library at two in the morning whereas Cerberus would be fast asleep by fist nightfall. For the sake of peace, however, Clow had decided earlier in the month that perhaps it was better to keep his observations to himself and his mind in the early morning more focused on his great nemesis, the kitchen stove.

By the time he heard soft footfalls coming up behind him, Clow had almost finished his grievous work of cooking and dared to pause in his labor to greet Yue as he wandered in to the adjacent makeshift dining hall the Reed trio had conjured in their first months at the manor.

"Good morning." He bubbled good-naturedly as the young boy crossed the threshold.

"Clow," Yue acknowledged easily as he dropped a rather large sack of entangled blankets upon one of the dining room chairs. It landed rather heavily, and Clow eyed the package with curiosity.

"Yue," he began bemusedly, "What is-?"

"A disembodied nose." the boy replied, and for a moment, Clow could only stand there, blinking in confusion. What on earth could he mean by that? Able magicians though he knew the two boys surely were, the more aged sorcerer couldn't conceive how they could possibly produced body parts of their own accord—and if they _had_ surely Yue would not be so casual about it! As he sat there and puzzled, however, a rather familiar wet black nose suddenly poked itself out of the huddle of blankets and sniffed about at the table before it, as if surveying the territory, before retracting like the periscope of the later-developed submarine. Clow chuckled as the many probable scenarios that had come between the two boys to result in this rather comical situation flew across his mind before he then returned to his eggs on the stove top. Oddly enough, had he voiced any of these whimsical thoughts, he might have found that not one of them were quite right. Perhaps he would have discovered a whole array more about his two housemates, and the relationship between them all—perhaps one slightly deeper-rooted than Clow could have ever imagined. Of course, perhaps talk at all about events passed could have saved the Reed family, perhaps spared them the trials and tribulations which would leave one of the three dead, one ruined, and the last the sad and scarred observer of their demise. But this could never happen in Clow's house, not as long as the man himself could continue to believe so firmly in his unending wisdom, and not as long the Yue could keep inside his troubles, or Cerberus pretend they would just…disappear.

None of these things mattered at the moment, however, and the focus of the moment, for both the head of the Reed clan, Clow, and most likely the disembodied nose, was the pathetic attempt at breakfast which was now struggling for life before him.

The little pan Clow had been using as his cooking surface had, in its wielder's momentary distraction, begun at once to scorch brilliantly hot, the fire beneath it having sprung out wildly. The middle-aged wizard yelped and before his ingenious mind could catch up had succeeded in tripping over himself in an attempt to turn rapidly back towards the chaotic stove, dropping his spatula, and, in his most graceful move of all, burning his hand on the side of the hot metal. Just as he was recoiling, defeated, however, and sucking on his now sore thumb, a soft, pale hand gently graced his shoulder. Yue's touch was cool and calming, and for a moment, Clow forgot all about his finger and his flustered attitude as he gazed into the boy's fair and innocent eyes. In one fluid motion, and as the older man stood stunned, the young magician coaxed the stove fire back into a controlled submission, and navigated Clow's pan off the murderous heat—all without even coming even close enough to the metal or the fire to burn himself, and with such purpose and grace that Clow for once found himself dumbfounded as to what to say.

"You need to be more careful." Yue whispered softly, taking Clow's injured hand into both his own, and drifting his cooling touch over the angry red scorch marks there. Clow nearly shuddered at the contact, lost in the blissful awe of the moment, and was almost sad a moment later when he had to let it go.

"How is it," he asked just as softly, but forcing out of his voice the deep intimacy and compassion he so wished beyond anything to emulate right now, attempting pitifully instead to resume his usual joviality. (Quite contrary to the vicious and passionate beast which had just begun to roar inside him) "That you can never eat anything, and yet be so good at that?" He asked, eyes sparkling with a gentle sort of sparkle in the direction of the kitchenware.

"How is it that you _do_," Yue responded swiftly, pausing not even for the space of a heartbeat to ponder or plan. "And yet are _un_able?" A sort of playful light flickered upon his face for a moment as he turned to head back toward the dining area, leaving Clow Reed dumbfounded yet again.

The silence of the moment, like any silence really, never lasted long in the confines of Reed Manor, however, and by the time Clow had set both his barely rescued eggs as well as toast and marmalade as well as some ham he had bartered off a rather large gentleman on the corner, the air in the room was light again. As strange as the conversation might have seemed to an outsider, it was quite true of the Reed family's situation. Unlike his brother, Yue had almost instinctively avoided the concept of meals since his birth six months earlier. Clow never pressed the issue, (and it was much more blithely regarded than it would be centuries later when the whole thing was only half-explained to a young girl in Tomoeda Japan) but had to admit to himself that it was quite a curious thing. Oddly enough, despite their obvious mortality—nearly _humanity_ in Yue's case—a lack of sustenance didn't seem to do any great harm to either one of the boys, though Cerberus would complain heartily were he deprived of his favorite pastime of stuffing his face. It was all utterly perplexing to the aging and experienced magician who could only assume that the pair's own powers and internal energies were such that they could sustain their metabolisms on their own. This theory was not quite correct, however, as Clow already suspected. After all, he thought as he watched the twins from the corner of his eye, they both breathed like any other creature, and blood still surged through their many veins—even in their wings which could be made to disappear! Altogether, Cerberus and Yue seemed, in all good logic, as dependant on the more bestial requirements of life as any other beings on this earth—a fact that made absolutely no sense if they could somehow be sustained on their magic alone! It was a mind-numbing puzzle. One Clow hoped sincerely he might one day be able to run past his old friend and physician, Dr. Hawkins.

As his plate was paced before him on the table, Cerberus's ears perked up beneath the blankets beneath which he was still hiding from the cold. the effect was almost comical to the two men on the outside of his 'bubble' as the little lion's rather large ears created two horn-like protrusions in the sheets, raising the covers higher into the air. "Now we'll see controversy," Yue commented as he slinked past Clow, his pale violet eyes fixed on his sibling.

"How so?" Clow chuckled merrily, also watching the pile of blankets curiously.

"Well," his companion remarked fluidly from somewhere in the region of the taller sorcerer's shoulder (Yue was considerably shorter than Clow) "Now he faces a choice between his two greatest loves: His lazy comfort, or his gluttony." Yue's soft voice played upon the words, which, in their sarcastic tone, whipped across Clow like a wonderfully strong wind, and it required of the man all of his self control not to either laugh at their implication, or shudder weakly at their execution. For a moment, it seemed that Cerberus too had realized this vital problem: In order to get to his breakfast on the table, he would have to come out of his shelter and face the cool morning air. As his housemates watched amusedly (condescendingly in Yue's case), his soggy little nose appeared once more, like a brave scavenger, out from beneath the thick, brown, blankets on top of him, and sniffed across everything before him. He started with the side of the table, dragging his bold and courageous scout across its grooves and then onto the actual flat surface. He sniffed like something out of a cartoon of future centuries, the sheets dragging along with his nose as if to emphasize stubbornly that he was _not_ going to threaten any other part of him with coming out from beneath their warmth. Once it reached the edge of his desired prey (the edge of the toast-edged porcelain plate), however, the nose retracted beneath its protective covers. For a moment, all was silent. "Well, I suppose that answers _that_ question." Yue whispered as Cerberus failed to resurface from the warm. But a split second later, the entire large blanketed mass made a grand leap for the dining table, and in a fittingly feline fashion, Cerberus Reed, blankets and all, landed gracefully on its polished oak surface. Greedily, a little clawed finger snuck out of its sheets and grabbed onto the plate (toast and all) in preparation to drag it along underneath the covers. The submerged cub _did_ make one more singular effort to his audience, however, and released his captured query long enough to flash his brother the two finger salute before both claw and breakfast-laden dish vanished beneath the blankets.

This time Clow did laugh. Rolling his eyes, Yue retreated to his usual morning post—a thin bench against the far wall just visible out of the corner of Clow's eye—and the merry peace of the room was restored. '

This was a common morning in the Reed household. Every day Clow would be the first to rise, being forced to venture out of his bed as soon as the rising sun reached his west-wing bedroom by means of the enormous single window above his bed. As the light burned at his eyes, the older man would force himself upright, and fumble about, squinting at the blurry room until he could locate his glasses on the side table to the right of his mattress. Interestingly enough, this selfsame table had also become the temporary home of his magical cards, the likes of which he had placed in a little drawer near the table's top. Clow found himself flipping through these perhaps more often than he should, occasionally sneaking them out of their hiding place and thumbing through the group greedily, like a teenager staling glances at a grown man's hunting knives, stolen from his father. He was as a child tempted with sweets; he simply could not resist. Not only as a gentleman, but also this time of year, for the sake of warmth, he always made it a point to change out of his nightclothes before coming down. Clow was a respectable man in that sense, though his joviality still shone in the often haphazard clothing he chose to wear around the house, only throwing on a dressier vest and traveling cloak if he was planning on spending any great time in the village. His long hair he kept mostly wild as well, only adding to the slight shabbiness beneath his high-class appearance as he left it tied loosely in a barely-contained ponytail (where the flyaway strands conveniently doubled as ear insulation). And so, he began his daily march to the kitchen where his usual his usual battle to the death with its various utensils and appliances began.

Cerberus was usually the second down in the mornings, now that it was cold, and generally came upon Clow as the latter was just beginning to brave the dangers of his large fire stove. In an almost fitting fashion, Cerberus despised the cold. Every morning, except on the rare occasion like this January day, Clow Reed's fist sign of company in the house was the sound of his fuzzy little lion bounding his way down the upstairs hallway, which connected his east wing bedroom to the rest of the house, the strange beast trying his hardest to keep his padded feet safe from the freezing floor as long as possible. On more than one occasion, the house's master magician had found himself idly stoking his fire one moment, and the next nearly falling flat on his back from the force of a cold cub having thrown his shivering form onto the man. Indeed, Cerberus would often only break contact with his master's shins ("body heat any way ya can get it" the boy would remark) when the older fellow at last got breakfast on the table!

Yue was always the last to arrive, for reasons Clow often left alone for fear of his younger son's less than happy reaction. The magician chuckled lightly to himself at the thought; though widely mature and intellectual for his youth, Yue was still an incredibly innocent soul, though the boy himself did not seem to realize it. He detested his master's whimsical observations and 'stereotypes', though he had not yet found any cause to rebel or test his elder's patience. His budding beauty and occasional sensuality which day by day tormented Clow, he carried seemingly like a young King Arthur his royalty: that is to say, in complete obliviousness. But Clow liked not to think of those things. Any time the topic came to his mind, the experienced sorcerer could barely contain the curious rush that overcame his great form, the surge of power and vigor—and rash stupidity—which began to cloud his mind and body like a thick fog in the rainy summers. There was a dark sort of feeling too, which Clow felt watching him from the edges of his consciousness as he surveyed his young ward, like a trapped beast simply itching to lash out and ravage anything it could reach. It frightened him, the beast within, and perhaps it was for this reason that he chose to keep the atmosphere light whenever possible.

All the same, as he sat opposite Cerberus at the dining table, Clow couldn't help but watch with a slyly hidden eye as Yue far behind him began to carefully undo his long cascade of hair to comb out for the morning. This happened most mornings, as Yue frequently had to braid his considerable mane in order to keep it from dragging along in the dirt and mud where it could quickly become horribly stained. As the younger man fumbled momentarily with the single hair tie at the base of his neck, Clow eyed him carefully over his morning tea, feeling a curiously non-weather-related cold shiver run up his spine as it came untied, and cascaded around Yue's small frame like a calm and pale waterfall. Despite its immense length, Clow had noticed, Yue's silvery hair had considerable body and movement to it. He had seen many a wealthy girl back in his homeland with long flowing hair far shorter than the young boy's which none the less, in its length and straightness, hung lank and flat beneath its weight, as if the ever growing strands dragged any structure or form out of it in payment. As Yue Reed began to separate his flowing strands, however, they danced around his face in huge, elongated arcs all the way to the floor—not at all like the wavy-haired maidens so common to this region, who's tresses would have bent upon themselves perhaps a hundred times for Yue's length—but so that each individual strand curved perhaps twice or so independently, so that the overall effect left the young man's gleaming hair looking twice and thick and able as it might have been otherwise. His long and angled bangs likewise reflected this amazing quality of body he possessed, and even when wet seemed not to ever go entirely fat and lifeless upon his forehead. These were the little things which Clow loved to notice about the fair young magician, and sometimes at night even relayed a new day's irreplaceable new observations through his mind as he slept, so as to ensure they would not slip away from him in his dreams.

He continued to spy as Yue absentmindedly ran his brush uselessly (for they never did seem to snag or tangle) through his long silvery tresses, and gathered them yet again at the nape of his neck with one hand while the other began to braid. Back and forth, Clow watched the gleaming strands dance as they were quickly bent across each other and secured in place. After so long of practice, Yue could tie back his hair in any number of ways quite easily, and with almost unimaginable speed: a gift which only comes to those bothered by hair of extraordinary length. His strands were tight and thin, and almost seemed horizontal as they criss-crossed over each other in the completed parts of the plait, quite unlike the more heart-shaped braids commonly seen done by inexperienced maidens. It almost mad Clow sad to see the sparkling cascade so compressed, but tied back this way nearly kept it off the ground when Yue stood—quite advantageous all things considered.

Even as the small and somewhat dazed youth finished his work, Clow continued to watch him merrily. On the subject of their respective morning routines, Yue was an interesting study. Alone in the household, he didn't seem to mind the cold—in fact he appeared to actually _enjoy_ it! At first Clow had wondered if the boy was simply trying to boast his tolerance to the new weather before his older brother, as young boys his age were prone to do, but after a time and a better analysis of his son's character, Clow was beginning to truly believe that perhaps he truly didn't seem to _feel_ the frigid temperatures as he and Cerberus did. Yue wore very little to bed in the winder, considering the brutal British cold, and often came downstairs in the mornings in little more than a very thin pair of trousers and an ancient flannel shirt which he never buttoned, and which Clow felt personally he added only for the sake of his housemates rather than any apparent need for insulation. This provided yet another temptation for Clow, however, and though he dared not say anything to Yue, he often found himself soaking in the tiny creases and crevices of the boy's flesh from the corner of his eye.

"There was quite a brilliant snowfall last night," Clow remarked after some time, with his usual cheery air.

"Was there?" Yue inquired curiously from the rear of the party, "I'd been a bit distracted this morning to check." Yue threw a sarcastic look at Cerberus who sniggered evilly beneath his sheets. Clow smiled to himself over his tea cup. On the north east side of the house, the boys' large paned window held possibly the best view of the grounds, which were far vaster on the east lawn than in any other direction. Clow's bedroom was north facing, one of the many windows from the front which could be seen lined with ivy. His limited view of the paved entrance path to the manor and short, sloping, lawn was nothing in comparison to the yards upon yards of grass which could be seen out Cerberus and Yue's window, gliding backwards to the edges of the hill where it was absorbed in the distance by the forest which surrounded the manor on three sides, and the looming cliffs where Yue had been born (and then pushed off by his brother the past summer). The lake alone remained hidden from their view, as it lay far below the cliffs at the very edge of the manor, and at any rate was much more restricted to the _south_east end of the property. The dining area they were now had no windows, as it was on the interior of the house, and Clow knew that in their early morning frustration with each other, the boys would now have to take their master at his word that a thick layer of snow had indeed fallen.

"Just curious," Cerberus piped up, sticking his bright orange muzzle back out from under his blanket-tent again to join the conversation. "But what does snow have to do with anything? This is England. It's January. It's bound to snow. So what?" Clow didn't respond, but instead continued sipping at his tea, an evilly jolly grin on his face. Even Yue now looked on with curiosity at his master's strange behavior, and had left the strand of his long silvery hair he had been absentmindedly twirling to lean farther forward on his bench in the hopes of getting a better look at the man.

"Clow?" Cerberus asked with uncertainty, for the first time peeking the whole of his head from beneath the warm.

Still the wizard said nothing, but the glint in his eye warned all that he had some devious plan in mind. After a moment passed, he set down his tea cup on its little porcelain saucer. "Yue," he said over his shoulder, without looking back. "You may want to put a shirt on."

Then he went back to his tea, which was quite alright with Yue, who had just attempted to disappear beneath his bangs and his long plait for the shade of scarlet which had just crept into his cheeks.

The wide sloping lawn of Reed Manor was covered with snow at least three feet of thick snow. Much like the dawn after the December blizzard, its gleaming cleanness radiated at the trio or gentlemen which now stood surveying it from the main stairs of the manor's front entry. It had a crisp and pure feeling about it as it lay slumbering sweetly upon the unborn grass, as did the clear blue skies above which could just be seen over the leafless trees of the great forest around them. The powder itself had fallen so thick that its light upper coat could hardly see a single stain of the underlying dirt and muck as a thin fall might. Altogether, it gave the morning a rather lively appearance which forced even Yue Reed to open up into the brightness of the day.

"Lovely weather indeed," Clow mused as he leaned upon one of the turrets which surrounded the front doors, surveying his territory like a rather pleased king. He paid curious attention to the sky, which was pale and cloudless—a common feature in the winter's cold—and a bright gradient of azure towering above them.

"I suppose," Cerberus commented, still confused as to his master's motives, and eyeing him curiously. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Why don't you try it out?" Clow offered to his little lion, not taking his gave off the heavens above.

"The sky?" Cerberus asked wildly, his eyes sparkling with youthful ignorance, and Yue at the rear of the group couldn't help but roll his eyes at his sibling's stupidity. How it was that Cerberus could be so terrible at putting logical ends together, he could never understand. Cerberus, who had been flying circles around their heads all summer—who had pushed his brother off a cliff for sake of being grounded, for heaven's sake—! The youngest of the trio sighed, and coming up lightly behind Cerberus (who was still staring perplexedly at the sky), and, with as much precision as he could muster on Cerberus's compact form, jabbed his finger sharply into a minute groove directly between the cub's extended shoulders and his rib cage. Cerberus yelped like a startled dog, and leapt foreword into the snow, releasing his wings instinctively at the sudden pressure. Upon hitting the freezing snow, he began to yap again, and did an almost comical little dance as he tried to keep his feet out of the cold as he leapt his way back to the stone stairs. "That hurt!" he whined tearfully a moment later, once he had regained himself. His chubby little face twisted into a pouting frown beneath his large yellow eyes. Before he could truly get in to his usual flamboyant act, however, he glanced at the large feathery masses now cascading beside him, and did a little jig at his new-found understanding. "I _**get**_ it!" he chimed joyfully, his irritation at Yue and his apparent torturous pain forgotten in the mix.

With neither another glance nor thought toward his companions, Cerberus gazed momentarily out toward the glistening path before him, and wordlessly bounded out into the frost, galloping and bounding like a hound fresh on the scent. His overlarge feet seemed to stick to the slush rather longer than the rest of him which kept moving forward, making his movements look like the spinning of some great machine, and inviting Clow and Yue to watch him apprehensively from their stations by the house, wondering truthfully if the little lion were going to fall. After several good yards of galloping and stumbling amongst the snow, at last the bumbling creature began to flap his clumsy wings, beating them so forcefully against the air that it seemed like they might hit the ground on the backswing. Unable to get a good running start or decent leap in the sticky snow, he gambled around aimlessly like this for a few good minutes (quite to his onlookers' dismay) until at last, with a rather unceremoniously he managed to heave himself a few good feet off the ground, and, in flurry of enormous flaps of his great wings, was at last in the air.

He cried for joy at his accomplishment, once he was airborne, and could safely turn backward to glance at his family below, before he sailed off, zooming happily across the wide lawns and landscapes of his vast property. He looked much more graceful in the skies than he ever did on the ground, in his brother's opinion (Though Clow secretly could hardly object), soaring swiftly along the wing in winding spirals, and daring loops. And Yue began to suspect he would like Cerberus a lot more if the boy never came down—and not only for the distance between them, but perhaps because Cerberus just seemed much more relatable as he soared with his apparent skill and enjoyment. He followed the lion with his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, almost hypnotized by the gliding up and down movements his delicate wings made on the wind. Before he knew it, the young man was standing well away from the manor on the winding paved bath before it, sinking to his ankles in the snow. In another moment, Clow was there at his side, a hand on his shoulder. For a moment, Yue reflected, his thoughts didn't seem to be forming properly. For a split second in time, heartbeats seemed to stretch into hours, and Clow appeared in slow motion before him.

A long black cloak billowed about him in the breeze, and he seemed like a great spot of contrast against the pale landscape. His long hair had become even wilder as it danced upon the air, whipping like madness all about his face, like an exotic dancer twirling to some inaudible tune. Yue had never gotten a proper look at Clow, he realized, as he stood there, perplexed in the mystery of the moment. As he gazed at the older man, it came to him all at once the things he had missed: the almost olive tint to his lightly tanned skin, the inky blackness of his invariably straight hair, and the great thinness of his deep blue eyes, which curved ever so slightly in an almond shape against his strong cheek bones—marks or his uniquely mixed ancestry, he supposed. He had never before noticed either quite how vastly large and sturdy a man Clow was on top of his great height, nor how long his face was beneath his fogging glasses, until now as they stood mere inches apart from each other.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Clow whispered, in a soft, deep, voice which reflected the kind of wonder and awe which seemed to engulf the two men. "That he could be so clumsy on his feet, and so innately skillful off of them?"

"But that's Cerberus," Yue replied just as gently, his own voice dropping a few keys lower in response to his partner. At this comment, Clow turned round, taking his eyes off the heavens above them, and surveying the blond beside him with a careful curiosity. "Cerberus has always been strong, powerful," Yue continued, taking the more dominant role in the discussion as his superior stepped back in awe, hanging on his every word with stunning interest. "You may say he's clumsy now, but I suppose he'll grow out of it just as surely as his out-proportioned body.

"Cerberus is just…" Yue's voice trailed off for a moment, and he appeared lost in contemplation, but on his next breath, he continued in his same deep and quiet tone, "He's graceful like a great swordsman is graceful—admirable in the weight and the strength of his movements, rather than being limber or agile."

"Fascinating." Clow muttered after a second of silence, his eyes moving back up to the skies where Cerberus had grown so high above them that he appeared to be little more than a great orange speck above the horizon. The distant lion was still continuing his happy combination of scoops and swoops upon the air, and seemed determined not to follow any kind of straight path as he zigzagged far over their heads. Clow chuckled as he imagined the little cub's smiling face and joyful cries up there amongst the clouds. How wonderfully simple he was—how easy his pleasures—secretly Clow prayed it a trait never to be lost. "You're certainly right about his growth." He laughed lightly as these new thoughts overtook him. "Cerberus is still quite young, I suspect, he's like a child—having almost no knowledge of this world around him. And certainly, he's bound to become quite a bit bigger. I've never quite heard of a lion that small in adulthood. I expect he'll grow into those feet of his soon enough."

At this Yue smiled too: Cerberus did have a very awkward figure at the moment, his feet and his tail in particular seeming far too large for him—as if they had been pasted onto him from some greater animal who would wake up in the morning with an incredible handicap. His face too seemed not nearly as pronounced as it should have been (setting aside the lack of mane), looking closer to an oversized housecat rather than anything of the leonine variety, and his lean, muscular body seemed hardly as developed or defined in tone or general bulk than it would be in his adult self of later years.

"Come to think of it," Clow's voice rung out, echoing in the depths of Yue's contemplating mind, and bringing him back to reality. Though neither man had noticed it, they had long ago begun a slow walk across the lawn, their feet sinking only slightly in the snow as they went. "Come to think of it," he began again, glancing with a sly contentment at the young sorcerer at his side, "You're still quite young too, aren't you?"

Unwillingly, Yue felt himself blush slightly at this. It was quite true of course, despite what his slick and eloquent demeanor often suggested, Yue Reed was still scarcely pubertal—comparatively around the age of thirteen. He was far shorter even than he would be in his long away days at the side of a young brunette girl whom he would one day find himself bound to, and his build was still extremely slight. Though he was always destined to be rather small and thin, he had not yet developed the vastly broad shoulders he would have in a few years, and he still had a lank, boyish quality to his form. Though he had already spent a great deal of time working on his stamina and physique, in his youth, he was not yet overtly masculine in his muscular tone, and his limbs, despite their strength, were still juvenilely slim and not greatly defined, his chest and core still thin in anticipation for the great growth spurt which would strike him in full puberty. His face too, as Clow frequently noticed, while already sharp in lines, had, as of yet, retained a more rounded, youthful look quite apart from the features of a grown man.

"The both of you, I would say, still have quite a bit of growth ahead of you." Clow chuckled fondly, smiling at Yue as he tried wildly to fanaticize how the boy might mature. Yue seemed to regain himself just as quickly as he had become flustered, and smiled slightly in Clow's direction with apparent ease. "Dear God, though," He commented with a smile. "I _do_ hope you get taller!" He ruffled the younger man's bangs, and peered over his glasses at him merrily. Yue didn't even grace his shoulder.

Before Yue could craft any kind of retort, however, or Clow any more comments about his height, there was a screeching sound from the air like a missile hurtling toward the earth, and in an instant, a streaking orange bullet crashed into the powdery ground some way in the distance. Cerberus seemed to have overestimated the multitude of air currents near the ground, and had failed to pull out of his bold dive. "Well, now he's discovered why the snow was so important!" Clow chortled, gazing out to where Cerberus was now dazedly digging himself out of the hole he had made upon impact with the snow.

"Don't poke fun at him." Yue whispered from behind him. "Please?"

Slightly stunned, Clow again whirled about to get a glimpse at his son's reaction: Yue too was staring intently in Cerberus's direction. Well, that was normal, he thought to himself—after all, it would be quite a spectacle in any case. The magician was surprised to see, however, that it was not the usual intellectual's sarcasm which lined Yue's face. Instead he had a rather peculiar expression; not anything which could be explained in terms of features exactly like anger or fear, but a kind of soft pleading appearance—the sort of thing which made one at once think of the compassion of a loving mother, and at the same time the pain of a martyr. His violet eyes were alight with concern.

It puzzled Clow.

A moment later, Cerberus rose from his crater, looking somewhat ruffled, but otherwise protected by the depth of the snow on the ground. "It's alright!" he yelled in their direction. "The snow caught me." And with a slightly more scrambled, though none the less contented, smile, he took a great leap and was airborne again. Yue relaxed. Clow puzzled more.

The sun had begun to set over southern England, its last dying breaths spreading themselves over the blue sky, staining it a multitude of pink and orange as the world faded toward night. Likewise, on the steps to the grand entrance of Reed manor, the atmosphere was heavy and opaque with the thick, steady breathing of the two men who sat at its base.

They were sitting rather unceremoniously across the stairs, the taller of the two settled several steps higher, only extenuating his towering stature over his short companion. Both had a similar contemplative expression as they sat amongst the cold gazing distantly at the changing skies above them. There was a kind of calm about the moment, as the pale snow around the men's feet began to take on a pinkish hue to match the towering heavens, and the setting sun cast long shadows across the sloping, curving surface of the lawn. Even the shorter of the two men, nearly as pale as the snow in complexion, and even fairer than it in hair, seemed imbibed with color by the late evening glow. Far above the turrets and walls of Reed Manor, Cerberus Reed was still zooming about over the trees of the endless forest that nearly encased the wide property. Yue and Clow sat serenely at the base of the steps leading up to the home's great face; they had sat in a nearly perfect silence for some time now, almost completely absorbed by the surrounding nature as they peacefully sat in the chill, painting the air by their warm breath.

Clow occasionally turned his eyes away from the scene about him, and watched Yue from behind, for once marveling more than the way he likened to the snowy wonderland in his beauty. In fact, Clow was contemplating something much deeper than this single miraculous instant of peace. He was pondering something deep in the recesses of his analytical mind which, he felt, should have occurred to him long ago, and which he was frankly stunned had not thought of before. Perhaps it had been the urgency of the moment, perhaps it had been his desperate fear of finding his sons buried beneath layers of merciless ice, perhaps his relief at finding them alive and relatively unharmed, but whatever his reasons, Clow Reed reflected, he had never asked Yue and Cerberus about what had happened in the cave. In all this long month since, he had not once mentioned the incident, nor let it even cross the expanse of his thoughts. But it was clear that something between his two boys _had_ changed.

It was silly of course, and subtle—and rest assured, he had never considered Yue outright heartless before—but there was something in the flicker of concern, the _momentary interest_, which had lined the younger boy's eyes at his brother's conundrum which was worlds apart from the way things had been before. Before the storm. Before that fateful December calamity, the state of relations between the twin boys had been near its breaking point. Cerberus had been crazed; Yue, scarcely harboring any mind. But now… What was it that had happened between them on that horrific day? What sort of chaos could have brought hi celestial pair to open up to each other, and change the nature of their rivalry so? It was a puzzle.

The sky was beginning to grow dark. A frigid wind blew across the lawn which made even Yue shiver beneath his traveling cloak. In the time which had passed whilst Clow contemplated, the sun had completely vanished beneath the horizon, and the young blond before him had begun to slowly scan the distant clouds above in search of Cerberus. Surely, this was as good a time as any, the wizard weighed, now, while they were alone here…

Slowly, hesitantly, Clow stood.

"I believe Cerberus was off eastward." He said evenly, careful to keep his internal conflicts out of his speech. Wordlessly, Yue stood as well. Softly, he murmured something in the way of agreement, but he had an unusual quality to his voice, almost cracked, as if he too were anticipating the awkward situation Clow was about to impress upon him. Slightly perturbed, but nevertheless determined to keep up his serious and uninterrupted demeanor, he descended the stairs and, motioning as nonchalantly as he could for Yue to follow him, headed down onto the manor's snow-covered main path.

The two walked in a strained silence for quite some time, both too flustered and sick to their stomachs with anticipation to speak. As they marched onward, the fading sky to their backs, and the cool January wind tearing at their helpless bodies, Clow entertained the idea of some kind of small-talk—about the weather or the manor, or some other frivolous topic—but almost immediately disregarded it. Now was not the time for feigned whimsicality; he could not bring himself to disrespect Yue's considerable intelligence in that way. And so he simply said nothing, and little by little, the eastern cliffs (from which Cerberus had pushed Yue half a year earlier) and their solitary, pathetic tree grew ever nearer. At last, in desperation as the shoreline began to unfold, Clow opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even get a single sound out, Yue cut across him.

"Clow," he began suddenly, silencing the magician at once, "Please, not now."

Clow gawked at him for a moment, only just able to make out the vaguest outline of Yue's fluttering cloak, a few feet in front of him, in the darkness. Momentarily lost for words, he stuttered in confusion over what he supposed was intended to come out: "What do you mean?"

Yue sighed, and gazed into the distance for a moment, a few strands of his long hair having come unfastened from his braid, and capturing all of the elder man's attention as the drifted like a specter on the wind. "This is about the blizzard, isn't it?" he replied at last. "About the cave, the storm… everything?"

He still had not turned around and was far ahead of Clow so that the latter could not see his face. (Oddly enough, in future years, his tendency to hide his face would become the young man's trademark) Slowly, cautiously, Clow moved in near silence to his side, only making a slight noise as his feet hit the icy ground beneath them. "I_ was_ going to ask." He admitted wholeheartedly, his voice abandoning its previous air of unconcernedness and dropping back to its usual octave. Yue hazarded a glance at him and, feeling out of danger, the two began to walk again, side by side. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?" he inquired more easily once they had set off once more.

Yue stared blankly at the ground, biting his lip slightly as he contemplated this concept. "No." he answered at last, looking back up. "I don't think so.

"It's just that—frankly I don't think Cerberus or_ I _have figured it all out yet." He sighed, and unconsciously ruffled his hair, causing the stray strands to twirl again hypnotically before Clow. In an effort to keep to the seriousness of the conversation, the wizard in question did his best to ignore the way in which the long strands danced, and kept his focus carefully on his toes until the moment had passed.

"It just seems," Clow offered once he had regained his composure, "As if so much has changed here in such a short time. And somehow, it all slipped past me." Yue watched him with a slightly puzzled expression on his face; Clow continued on, attempting better to explain himself. "I suppose it's a bit like we were discussing earlier, how the pair of you had grown this year, how there are still so many changes ahead of us…

"When I left, you…—and Cerberus was—" Clow stuttered miserably over the phrase a few more times before Yue, placing one of his pale, long-fingered hands on his mentor's shoulder, silenced him gently.

"We were nearly killing each other." He whispered. "I know." Momentarily, both men took a quick glance at the sky to make certain that the small leonine beast was not about to be upon them before Yue continued. "I just couldn't stand him. He was too immature, to naïve—perhaps even so far as to say too unconcerned—for someone like me to have been able to get on with easily. And I suppose," he reflected fairly "Cerberus must have found himself in a similar situation. I can imagine, knowing nothing but his own inborn endurance and his overtly exuberant nature, someone like me must seem… utterly intolerable."

The more wizened of the two magicians, pondered in silence while his companion was saying this, listening intently as a student might have in the face of a great lecturer—absorbing each of Yue's words as surely as if her were a sponge, and letting them swim about in his mind like a vast ecosystem. "I don't know," the boy continued, his eyes determinedly forward as if to ensure that no distraction from Clow might stop him. "I don't know properly why I still cared what became of him then, if we were such universes apart from each other. I don't know what kept me from fighting back, from making a blood feud of the whole affair. Or at least, I don't know what made me care so much for the beast _himself_ that night. I suppose I tried to convince myself it was all some 'mature' thought process—as if he were some insignificant part of the house that needed tending to while its master was away. But that doesn't explain a damned thing I've done. I can't keep explaining myself with logic and… and analytical concerns. It wasn't logic that made me run out into that storm or… or any of what followed. By Our Lady, I wish it were." At this point, the young man paused to take a shaky breath, still not daring to look his companion in the eyes for fear of losing his nerve. His left hand twitched slightly at his side as he fought back the impulse to run it through his hair, but he nevertheless continued. He had known Clow was going to bring this all up sooner or later; surely it must be better to get it out into the open while he had his chance (and before his legs could give out from nerves). "As much as I would love to be the scholar like you, Clow," he half-laughed, "I'm obviously not one to run on reason alone. I ran on instinct in the crisis of the storm—just as bestial as Cerberus. Somehow, his same feverish passion runs in me too. Emotion, not reason. I seem to have the extremes of both. I seem to be the master of them both.

"That's why," he said, at last looking Clow straight in the eye "I can't tell you why we can be so much more equal rivals now. Because, the honest truth is, Clow, I haven't got a clue why I became so protective of him instead of logical. I've not a _damned _clue what made me so 'gallant' or… virile, I suppose, instead of brainy like you, but…"

"Until I do understand," he finished forcefully. "I can't explain to you what happened."

As Yue's voice fell on the last sound, the wind about them stopped, and Clow peered at the boy bemusedly through his fogging spectacles. For quite some time, he said nothing. The silence echoed, and the dark about them seemed to grow deeper. Amongst the pale, glowing snow, Yue, in his glorious pallor, seemed almost akin to the tiny flecks of ice beginning to fall around them. His fair face barely even reddened by the breeze, shining in every protrusion against the night, so that his boy-ish composition seemed to bear the sharp edges of an older man's in the near-night. His silver hair, now having fallen farther from its careful braid, catching the last of the evening's light, and sending it sparkling about him like tiny flickering stars.

"You know," Clow said at last, his voice distant and low. "I sometimes think that the only think keeping you from blending in to this deep white canvas, is your shadows."

Yue appeared taken aback.

Clow, however, continued on as if there were nothing at all unusual at this sudden, unexpected response. "The snow, this lovely, dead, cold snow. It's all white, you see. I guess, I would have thought… you would have disappeared to it. But all day, I've not yet lost you in it. It's your shadows. Its every little crevice, every detail, every hue and form about you that a blank canvas lacks… I suppose that's what's kept you from disappearing into this dead, dry landscape. It's your darkness, your inward curves and outer bevels, that make you…

…living."

Thought neither of them fully understood it at the time, Clow was far from talking about simply the boy's physical appearances, but also the very condition of his true nature—his soul, if you wish—which Yue himself had just been questioning. Somehow, in Clow's mind, the two were invariably connected. Somehow—without consciously recognizing all of the steps in between—he could see that, like the way his dimensions and the multitude of creases and nooks among his very human form saved him from vanishing into the monochromatic scenery about them, so the dark and wild patches of his personality—his emotionally-driven side—were what saved him from being a bland encyclopedia of facts and logic. And, as the shadows of his physical body served him well in the matching snow, so would his passion—first for his family, then for his dying past, and lastly for the little girl of Cerberus's prophetic dreams—eventually become, likewise, his saving grace.

But Clow, in his _truly_ analytical mind, did not delve into any of this. Instead, he silently picked up his staff (which he had been using as a walking stick earlier in the day) by a place very near its top, and turned it so that the tips of its blazing sun touched the ground at Yue's feet, where the last dregs of sunlight had left the most fading of shadows upon the ice below. "Seal." He whispered.

For once, there was no flash of light, but as Clow summoned the spirit about them, the wind once again began to churn, so much so that both sorcerers had to look away as the gust burned at their eyes. In the next instant, Clow was holding in his hand yet another maroon and gold card, this one emblazoned with a shadowy hooded figure, who dominated the paper face like the angel of death. The caption beneath read 'The Shadow'.

"When you _have_ decided," he said, handing the card to Yue, who was still standing dumbfounded at his side, "What happened to you both in that cave,

"Come to me."

Yue said nothing. What could be said? It was all he could do to keep his feet rooted there in the snow, his mind suddenly blank with the strangeness—and yet apparent wisdom!—of Clow's actions. He looked up, into the man's weather-blown face, now only the slightest of inches away from his own. His wavering violet eyes searching the depths of the elder man's almost completely shadowed blue. His heart began to flutter in his breast like a captured butterfly, and, as he inched even closer, _even_ _nearer_, to the other man, his breath caught hard in his throat. It was like a spell, like an alluring hypnosis on his entire body, his conscious thoughts left behind him in the cold. For a split second, they were nearly nose to nose!

SMACK!

Cerberus landed hardly on the ground, just beside the cliff's only, miniscule, tree. The force of his paws sent the snow flying, and the whirl of his wings sent another gust of breeze billowing across the two other magicians.

The spell was broken.

His mind his own again, Yue backed away, a slight flush (unseen by the others) creeping into his cheeks.

"Sorry." Cerberus spat a bit too harshly for someone who should have been indifferent to the moment. His eyes, glowing lanterns in the dark, fixed unyieldingly on Clow. "Guess I should work on that landing a bit more, huh Clow?" His voice shook with contempt, with anger, but Yue, in his own state of emotionalism, didn't notice. Clow, with equal fury shining in his eyes, glared back at the lion. "Perhaps you'd better." He hissed, locked in a bowless battle with his elder boy—whom he knew had just ruined the passion of his moment alone with Yue purposefully.

"Perhaps," he whispered, turning on the spot, his thick black cloak flying "It was time we called it a night."

He headed back to the manor, Yue already having taken the lead. And Cerberus, content that he had forestalled Clow's advances on his brother, at least for this night, followed.


	13. Winter Days

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

___AN: Hey guys, sorry for the delay, I had a lot of work this past semester coupled with computer failure (not to mention chapter length), but here it is now, and please read and review!_

**Part Four: Card Games**

In the days of 17th century England, personal clocks were a luxury.

It wasn't that the invention of the timepiece was new or anything—after all, even the ancient Greeks and Romans had held dear their sundials, and water-clocks, and things of that nature. Indeed, the mechanical clock had been in use across the country for some hundreds of years now! But that wasn't to say that every fellow off the street had his own personal time device with which he could mark the passing of the day in any accuracy.

Truly, a man with his own time piece was in such a luxury that if half of the village of Lightwater knew of the little wall clock which ticked away in the entrance hall of the mysterious Reed Manor, Clow might well have woken up one morning to find a long line of hopeful sightseers trailing down his lawn, all prepared to sign away their hands or toes for a glimpse of the thing. In fact, as all of the manor's few visitors over the years took care to notice, Clow's little time-keeper was even more luxurious than any in the village could have imagined. Not only did it have—in addition to the customary hour-marker—a minute hand (in itself a luxury), but also another, tinier, sweeping arm about its face to count the seconds. Second hands, in this time and place, had only existed for perhaps a decade, and were therefore an incredible wonder of modern technology to behold—one conceivably only bequeathed to the most distinguished of astrologers and astronomers for their studies of the heavens. And of course, on the topic of the clock's novelty, there was therefore a great mystery as to how Clow, who had just moved to England in 1680 (and whose father had died nearly forty years earlier), had come about it, for surely it could not have come with the house! Subsequently, it was a mystery which Clow never sufficiently explained.

It was neither the great conundrum of its birth, nor the glamour of its ownership which would come to define the Reed manor's rare treasure however, but something much less obvious of the illustrious device. A quality which, perhaps, could never be viewed so sinisterly by another man—or even another time, in which its uniqueness had long become commonplace and unworthy of notice. But to Dr. Benjamin Hawkins, it was the sunrise and sunset of his time amongst the Reeds. The first thing that met him at the door as he entered, and the last thing to pass him as he left.

It was the tiny click of the machine's little pendulum as it ticked away the seconds.

It was the soft tick-tock of this one new innovation that sounded rhythmically from one moment to the next—the driving force of the entire timepiece in the form of a long swaying weight.

Day in, day out, it ticked away, and this is what drew the doctor's attention so. It was the one thing about the manor, as he lay now safely in his own bed many months after his first visit to the grand house, which he could not shake from his mind. Its pendulum beat. Its gears turned. Its smallest hand leapt across its face. And all of this it did in the same steady rhythm: sixty times per minute, every minute. It was like a little, horrible mechanical beast, its soft tick-tick the metal heartbeat of some terrible monster. It mocked those of flesh and blood, whose blood beat a hair faster—or a hair slower, as would come to be true of the more conditioned of the doctor's acquaintances. It mocked Hawkins with its inhumanity—its inexistence. What was it after all but a pile of wood and ore, and yet it clicked away in perfect harmony and perfect calm. Never once did its pendulum skip a beat in fear, or race with passion or sickness or pain! No indeed, the second-clock continued ever on in its undisturbed pattern, drawing envy and hatred from its mortal companions whose own pulses would forever beat off tempo.

Perhaps none but a physician could have ever taken so much to store of a tiny little wall clock—a wonder of modern mechanics—but it was to be forever Hawkins' mortal enemy. Indeed, those battle lines had been in place since the innocent doctor had first crossed the threshold into the metal monster's lair in the earliest hours of 1st July, 1681.

**Chapter 6, Winter Days**

The hour was very early on the cool morning of 23rd January, 1682. The sky outside was still pitch black—or at least it would have been if not for the brilliance of the multitude of stars which were strewn upon it. A great, full moon too hung in the sky, crisp and clean in the night air, and shining down its hazy glow to the landscape beneath. Together it made for quite a bright night, the wide streets of Lightwater almost completely illuminated by blue light; they almost appeared as if they were broad daylight viewed through a cool filter. The lunar radiance sparkled lightly off the glass-pained windows and extinguished lanterns of the town square, sending little peeks of light flickering across the plaza—as if the smallest of fireflies had gathered there, sending their Morse-code messages discreetly to their far away partners. A light snow was falling from the starry sky. It had been heavier earlier in the evening, coating the ground with a thick layer of fluffy, undisturbed powder—and it would become heavy again before the morning rise—but now it merely drifted leisurely in the partial light, giving the moonbeams even more play on the pure white landscape.

One house in the collection seemed particularly doused in the radiant scene of snow and stars and lunar glory. It was a relatively small shack, made of a rough, weathered wood on all sides. It had the look of a worn structure which had been built by one with neither the funds nor the ambition to care for it properly—most likely an old widower or a bachelor who had no need to take pride in his homestead. All the same, it was not unattractive to the eye either, and beneath its masculine and neglected façade, it had the strange look of having been adopted by a gentler hand who had tried to nourish it back to health again. The wood structure—though rough—had been cut evenly so that no odd edges suck out of the aged planks. The roof tiles were pristine and new, lined with care by fat shingles on each side so that it almost looked like a doll house. The shutters were new, made out of a smoother wood and lightly painted in a color which was not quite definable in the moonlight—and may not have been in the daylight, as was much the intention of their artistically challenged creator. A little railing by the front entrance likewise looked to be a recent erection and, though it was of a simple design, its long wooden arms were sanded down with care and craftsmanship. Surely their creator had not been the most experienced in construction matters, but indeed he seemed to have devoted a great deal of love into making them presentable. This was true of an old sign as well which hung on a dark rod iron brace off the hose. Like the rest of the shack, the wood of its face was old and cracked, but the paint upon it was fresh and new, barely legible in the pale light with its black lettering, but nevertheless worth of merit. The sign read: "Benjamin J. Hawkins; physician, surgeon, apothecary".

The doctor himself slept, deep within the little shack which was his home as well as his place of practice. In a tiny back room, just off the left side of the house, the high moonlight was streaming through his bedroom window. Hawkins lay slumbering just beneath its light, his goldenrod hair, far paler than it would be in the day by the grace of the moon's glow, streamed out in all directions across his pillow. The window by the bed was the only one in the room, and despite the brilliance of the nighttime light outside, the space remained fairly dark and illusive. Indistinct bottles and containers glittered faintly from across the room, unidentifiable except for the slight twinkling of their glassy finishes. A star chart of the heavens was tacked, partly illuminated between the door and a rickety old wooden desk upon which countless, unseen, papers were strewn. Here and there, the rest of the walls were likewise dotted with illustrations or important charts, but in the dark of the early morning, their letters and characters were unintelligible, the posters appearing only as squares of lightness on shadowy walls.

Snow had already begun to gather on the windowsill by which Hawkins slumbered, and the glass itself had become fogged and crackled with cold and ice. But the mind of the good doctor was somewhere far the chill and glamour of the winter night, drifting along in the memory of a different morning where the moon had shown bright and full.

…

The forest of Lightwater was abound with shadows in the early morning light. Even the ground beneath Hawkins' feet was barely visible as he cautiously walked across it, taking step upon step further into the darkness. Somewhere far above his head, an owl hooted loudly. This was not quite as common an occurrence as one might think, many owls preferring silence to sounding away their positions, and somewhere deep inside it made Hawkins tremble. An entire orchestra of cicadas and beetles and every other manner of insect chimed through the open air, each calling to his unknown mate. Leaves rustled like a chaotic percussion section. The wind sang mournfully between trees. The entire chorus of the night was in full swing.

The walk did not take nearly as long as it had in reality, and the doctor felt almost as though he had floated through it—his feet on the ground belonging to someone else; for surely he, floating above, couldn't feel their journey. The scenery too seemed blurred and warped at the edges, as if it were half matter and half light. But none of this occurred to Hawkins at that moment, deep within his dream—his memory of many nights past. Before he knew it, he was drifting up the lawn of Reed manor, the blue moon above casting it into half-shadow. The grass about the surrounding glade glittered in the pale lunar glow, and in the distance, the waters of a vast lake appeared almost white with shine. It looked as if someone had turned a great spotlight on the landscape, reflecting off its glassy, polished surface as truly as if the land itself were glowing from within. Up from its glimmering natural surround, the hard façade of Reed manor struck from the ground like a vast stone monster: man's stronghold prison upon the rest of the earthly scene. The cold stone disappeared deep beneath the shadows and crevices of the night—and even in his dream, Benjamin Hawkins felt almost afraid of the imposing structure posed by approaching north wing. There was something deep inside there. Something he didn't want to meet. Something whose own, personal threat to this world—and this perfect little English society—must surely be presenting itself through the dark, caliginous walls of his manor home!

But though these thoughts plagued the doctor somewhere in the depths of his tired mind, the man himself could feel no blind terror as he sailed through the building's massive oak doors, beneath the crumbling sign that read 'Magia Est Immortalis'. He had been here before. There were no surprises for him inside this place, not anymore. And so the man sailed on, moving swiftly forward in his strange walking glide.

Time had seemed to stretch on like gypsy girls of the east the first time Hawkins—in full body—had met the winding halls of Reed Manor. But tonight, they seemed nowhere near as menacing: the beast of this imposing place might once have ravaged the village and countryside, metaphysically speaking, when it had appeared new and brutal, but it had long been domesticated for the doctor. In his monotony, he glided as easily as you please through the vast, deserted entrance hall, through the main chamber of the house, past the kitchen door which Cerberus so often frequented in the early morning, up the grand mahogany staircase. Like a specter, he seemed almost intangible as he floated restlessly down the maze of passages collectively called the east wing—feeling more as if he were simply gliding through the thick stone walls rather than navigating around them. At last, he reached what looked to be the end of his long and solemn walk. Near the end of distant hallway, a soft orange light glowed beckoningly from around the corner. It was quite unique to the pale blue moonlight which had been the doctor's companion this entire journey tonight, and likewise stirred a sense of foreboding somewhere deep within his gut. It was the end of his serenity—his indifference—this was true as surely as was its contrasting hue. But how ironic that this little lantern light, the sleeping Hawkins mused, in a shocking moment of intellectual clarity, should be so juxtaposed to the surrounding moonbeams (still glowing tenderly just outside the towering window of the approaching chamber)? Could not Clow in his supposedly infinite wisdom not have perceived the comedy of errors borne out of this, his one conscious addition to the scene? The mockery of his lighting a lantern?

But Hawkins would save these comical musings for another time. The season was not yet quite ripe for the good doctor to be so comfortably familiar with this, the young object of his dreams. Meanwhile, there was plenty more to distract his dreaming mind. Words were being said, he was sure, but they were meaningless to him now. Once again, the young physician had the curious feeling that he was utterly detached from the body about him. He was no longer any relation of the Benjamin Hawkins of June 1681, and truth be told, he was beginning to get rather annoyed with the man. This Hawkins was just the distastefully naive protagonist of an otherwise fascinating novel, and the modern doctor found himself defiantly skimming the pages of his long and unappetizingly immature monologue in hopes of passing it for the better part of the story to come soon. Why was it that no storyline could ever be perfect enough to lack the parts all reasoned men wanted to skip over? And so the ghostly doctor talked, and meanwhile his intangible doppelganger paid little attention. Instead, Hawkins focused his energies a bit more on the contrasting details of his surround. Clow had indeed lit a small oil lantern in this part of the house. It hung from a small brass hook on the far wall, just before the opening to the main hallway, and flickered irregularly in its orange glow like the fickle heartbeat of a dying man. (Was it inevitable, being a physician that everything should remind him of physiology? He would have to contemplate that later.) He had been right, of course: it was nothing like the steady moonlight from the outside world, steadily streaming in from the tall windows opposite. The moonlight was pure, untouched by human hands. It's ethereal light was unbroken, with no life-like rhythm to it. The moon was dead essentially, he supposed, or at least not living—like an unborn child. And yet, it was this very quality which made it so pure and comforting, he was certain, on his journey up here; surely no creature, once it had gained life and consciousness, could emulate such perfection. It was the Garden of Eden, from which man had fallen: the advantage gained there was consciousness, such as this innocent moonlight would forever lack—life—but the cost was perfection, and innocence. And that brought him to the lamp. How funny indeed it was that Clow had positioned it outside this particular east wing door, canceling out the moonlight beyond with its flame. But at the same time, Hawkins realized, it was accidently perfectly appropriate. The light from outside could no longer penetrate the fire's glow—it could no longer reach the creature whom the doctor knew full well was lying behind a single wooden door mere steps away from him. And perhaps this was what was so fitting about it, and what had first frightened and then changed the gentleman so on this memory, this night, in question. This night, a second paradise had been lost, and another had left perfection (as all other men had) for the ridiculousness of the human condition. One other had traded the bliss of purity and unconsciousness for true, and sometimes unglamorous, life. In this universal flaw of creation a second 'Adam' had given his metaphysical womb of safety into a new and perhaps more painful existence: of dimmer man-made light to his previous brilliance, and a permanent dependency on a capricious heart which would forever, in its emotional waxing and waning, forever be his tormenter.

This was what he had been touched by to change the man Hawkins forever, even though he could not have understood it at the time. How vast was creation beyond man's present understanding? And was it the nature of everything applicably called 'human', in order to rightly deserve that title, to have to fall from grace? (Or to have to constantly subject himself to rhetorical questions?)

Behind the doctor, a door flew open with a bang, and, knowing what was inside

Dr. Benjamin Hawkins, physician, surgeon, and apothecary-1682 followed his younger self over the threshold.

Yue couldn't sleep.

The very statement itself seemed ridiculous. Yue Reed—the teenage lord of Reed manor, the blossoming lunar sorcerer who read through the nights and slept through the days, the thirteen-year-old midday corpse (by his older brother's description)—couldn't sleep.

Reed manor was deceptively quiet here in the early hours of the morning. There were no happy noises of Clow clambering about downstairs yet; no sounds of Cerberus galloping about the eastern chambers, or even the echoes of common rodents scavenging the endless hallways for food, shelter. One day, countless decades in the future from this night of 1682, a gentleman would write a children's' story to this effect, of a silent house on a cold winter's night: not a creature stirring. On this frosty eve, however, it was far from welcoming. Anything but peaceful or serene, Yue thought weakly, as he lay there—as deeply buried in his sheets and blankets as he could muster.

Every part of him ached.

It was beyond muscle strain—leagues away from overexertion or overextension, or any of the other 'over's, 'hyper's or 'hypo's a young man of his training and physique could expect to be stricken by. His flesh throbbed when he moved and shifted and breathed, and throbbed just the same when he lay nearly death-like. Curled in his half-collapsed position, shivering beneath his blankets, the budding sorcerer felt almost as if he had been cursed by some demon or devil—or whatever it was the villagers were always raving about as comforting excuses for their problems. He felt as if some unseen stranger must have slipped deep within him sometime during the day, while he had walked the grounds with Clow, and each had torn at his straining muscles in turn until they had all suddenly given in, screaming in agony, to their pitiful condition now.

Outside, a wispy flicker of a cloud lazily drifted its way across the full moon which Hawkins' dreams had reminisced upon. Yue shuddered pitifully as the shadow flashed murkily across the pale light from his window. Some tiny line of sinew protested half-heartedly along the side of his ribcage as it was forced to tense, but now even his body itself seemed too tired of the whole ordeal to do more than resignedly whisper of its torture. The cold did not feel kind tonight either, as it had for the frail boy so far in life. Instead of its usual cool and refreshing feel upon his skin, the frigid air now made him recoil like a reflexive infant back toward the nearest warmth. Why he felt such a need for heat, he couldn't understand, as his own frame felt wracked with an incessant burning of its own—radiating from deep in his core. And though he shivered and clutched his covers as if they were his lifeline, the deep internal fire blanketed his flesh in a cold sweat. The frozen air of the early morning bit at him even more.

This was not the terrible part, however, and while it was in itself agony, it was not particularly what was keeping him from at least some sort of stagnated sleep. Nor was it, on that note, what was making the awful silence of his surrounding home so unbearable.

Across the room, Cerberus shifted ever so slightly beneath his own covers. Yue could have screamed with frustration, but his energy was gone. Damn him. Damn him and his unconcerned slumbering. Why was it that _he_ was not in agony?

Frustrated, tired, and with hardly the strength to maintain anger left in his ravaged body, Yue sighed dejectedly, his breath shaking with emotion as well as feebleness. His ribs protested the effort, but the boy in question was far too strained to care at this point. (Unless he decided to stop breathing—which was beginning to look like a promising option—they were set to complain about it anyway.)

It was a testament to just how miserably he was feeling that the young man could even so easily acknowledge his own physicality, but for the past few hours, it had been something he could hardly ignore.

The night was the same for Yue Reed as is was for Benjamin Hawkins: the early dawn of January the 23rd. It was the night after Clow had taken them both out on the front lawn to watch Cerberus fly; only a handful of turns on the manor's wondrous downstairs clock since the pair of them had so cryptically brushed upon the subject of the blizzard…

At least it was comforting to know that someone in this house could sleep at all, the exhausted youth thought to himself as he watched his brother's little curled form from his own position in the bed opposite. At least he could be consoled by the knowledge that his misery was his own secret: totally unbeknownst to Clow or Cerberus, or even the mice scurrying about the halls. For Yue it had not been a silent and peaceful night. He could not hear the soft sounds of the wind whipping past the outer walls, or the scuttle of rodent feet on the floorboards. Indeed, he could not even hear _silence_ itself for the blood pounding in his ears.

All through his pitiful body, his vasculature throbbed madly—as if it were trying to beat the last bit of life out of his tissues from within. His entire form, from his huddled core to his shaking limbs felt as though they were pulsating in unison, distending visibly as boiling blood rushed through them. His heart was hammering so hard against his ribs that it ached, and it was for all these reasons that the young boy was so thankful to know that his roommate could not also hear it.

What had changed so suddenly in the course of the day? What was it that had made their easy morning transfer so dramatically into this storm of internal conflict and bodily turmoil?

Must he think about this now?

His already racing pulse gave a terrible jolt as his thoughts drifted toward the complexities he and the older magician, Clow, had touched upon the afternoon before. Sighing submissively, Yue closed his eyes and let his rebelling body overtake him. He still wasn't sure, the smoldering youth reflected desperately as he shook weakly under his layers of sheets, why it was he had felt so transcendentally all of a sudden about his and Cerberus's experience in the cave. At the time it had seemed…

What had it seemed?

'Easy'? 'Normal'? 'Just another day in Surrey'? No, certainly not. But at the same time, Yue thought to himself, he couldn't really remember having considered at all how he had felt about the situation while it was happening. Their circumstances had seemed so dire, he supposed, so urgent and all-consuming in itself that perhaps they hadn't had the capacity to think deeply about what the night had meant for them. To be completely truthful, he supposed, they hadn't really thought about _anything_ oriented with a possible future or future issue. Were things really desperately different than they had been before?

His eyes still softly closed, the febrile blond tried to force his sluggish mind to recall those early days—at the very least to take him away from some of the fires that now plagued him. He had to calm himself. For a time, the exhausted Yue Reed just lay there, his arms resting softly across his abdomen, enjoying the wondrous coolness of the darkness which engulfed him. With all his remaining might, he tried to focus on the expanse of nothingness which unfolded beneath his eyelids—to let the dark and empty and unfeeling world carry him farther, farther away from his panicking body. He could not maintain this sanctuary for long, however, and even against his weakening will, the young boy felt hazy images of his older brother drifting warily across his mind. They began soft, and subtle. His vision swam with the blurry specter of a small orange beast, covered head to tail with a mass of golden fur, all at once seeming too expansive for such a slight creature. He had been smaller then even than he was now, Yue realized half-heartedly. If only they'd gotten along better in those days, he'd hazard to guess that he could not only have held Cerberus in his arms, but also perhaps been able to lift him one-handed. It was strange how much tinier the little cub had been in their early days, back in the summer; at the time, Yue noted, he hadn't seemed so miniscule and defenseless. Indeed, Cerberus had appeared almost intimidating when first they had met—every day, it seemed, an encounter between the two had meant a fight, even from their starting morning with each other.

The image in his subconscious swam nauseatingly.

'_You're __**mean**__!'_ the small reformed lion now pouted, rubbing a sore head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Tears at what? Of eye-watering pain, or at realizing your new companion in life wasn't someone you could get along with, who could share your spontaneity and run amuck with you? What was it Cerberus had been expecting? Certainly not something so distasteful and at ends with his own being as a dry scholar…

But were things between them really so black and white?

'_Ooww! That hurt!'_ the squeaky, cracking voice rang out, _'You didn't have to hit me…!'_

"I'm sorry…" Yue whispered aloud, though he could not register it where he was, here, so deep in his own thoughts.

The scene before him faded. Cerberus dissolved into a flurry of colors and then rearranged himself again. Now the same leonine beast leaned towards his brother, in Yue's mind, his face contorted with a wicked sort of wildness. _'I want you to play with me'_ echoed through the surrounding nothingness, the words even more terrible than the younger boy remembered. As he spoke, the specter Cerberus cracked an awful grin—something that one might have expected from a mad scientist: the sort of man you would find somewhere, shut up in his lab doing God only knows what to the basic elements of nature and biology. Altogether, it was a sickening sight, and Yue cringed slightly in his unconscious, horrendous memories of the July afternoon from which this ghost was haunting him skimming in an all-too-real manner across his mind's eye. From some far, intangible place, he could just barely perceive a long-past wind whipping past the face of his younger self and the crumbling rock which had shifted beneath his fingers that day, as he had held himself in desperation to the cliff's edge his brother had pushed him from. Some place far away, a greener Yue Reed pounded urgently against his modern self's tormented soul, frantic pulse surging just as tremendously as it did presently—!

'_Cerberus!' _the phantom screamed, and in his half-conscious stupor, his true, living body, lying back in his bedroom may well have done the same, _'Please, Cerberus, just stop all this now…'_

An instant passed, and the ghostly lion continued to smirk, and then

And then the world began to spiral out of control, the scene around the traumatized teenager swirling nauseatingly in a blaze of color and sound and pattern, and he was falling again, just as he had on that summer evening, farther and farther into… what?

Into nothing, Yue reminded himself, taking a deep settling breath (to the protest of his ailing body) and allowing his intra-mind images to right themselves again. The past was long over, and now— Well now he was just a miserable young man, tossing and turning with insomnia and internal turmoil when he should be soundly asleep like his sibling. There was nothing to fear in these dreams anymore, but how startling was it that they had once happened at all? Surely it was a sign that something somewhere in the Reed household _had_ changed with the passing of the New Year. True, Cerberus was hardly a genius by any standards, but… but that immature and demented creature who had nearly launched his little brother into the lake, one way or another, was simply not the little cub they knew anymore. Somewhere, between the snow, and the cave-in, and the horrendous stories he had prophesized about what was to come—Something had changed within Cerberus Reed…

'_What is wrong with you?'_

This time the screeched words cut across him before Yue even had a chance to prepare himself for them. Cerberus stood once more before his roommate, eyes looking out into an obscure something in the distance, his fur transparent and only as substantial as fog.

'_You have no heart!'_ The spectral apparition shouted into the night, its entire form contorted with rage and hurt, _'I HATE you!'_

'_I WISH YOU'D JUST ROLL OVER AND DIE!'_

Flames engulfed the entire surround, and Yue nearly forgot that all this was in his head. Reflexively, he thrashed about, shielding himself as best he could against the all-encompassing fire. The blaze burned and burned around him, swirling and crackling like some horribly elaborate dance, and Yue found himself being pushed farther and farther back toward the real flames which smoldered deep inside him, the boy lying in weakness back at Reed manor. Surely, Yue, huddled in the center of the inferno, begged to himself, surely this anger and violence could not be the end-all conclusion, the alpha and the omega of his and Cerberus's short relationship? And even as the thoughts crossed his mind, yet another voice cut through the air, reverberating madly as if it had come to him from someplace far away; some kind of distant land which he could not even see from where he stood here, crouched beneath the merciless fire.

'_Yue!_' It screamed, desperately, in terror and fear, _'Yue! Wake up!' _

All at once, blasts of snow and ice and freezing powder came thundering onto the scene, tearing through the flames and hurtling past the half-sleeping boy caught in their midst.

'_Listen to me,'_ came the phantasmal reply over the roar of the hurtling slush. Yue froze in his battle against the onslaught, and listened with strange captivation to its softer, gentler tones. _'I_ will _find us a way out of here…'_

All at once, the dust settled, and the blizzard of snow, just as instantly as it had begun, transformed itself into lightly falling flakes—no more threatening and powerful, but serene, delicate. The whole of the surrounding atmosphere, in fact, seemed to develop a lighter hue in response to this new, compassionate aura. For one final time, the image of Cerberus Reed appeared hazily on the horizon, now neither his tiny, infantile self, nor the larger, slightly wiser creature of today. No, Cerberus was not far in size or stature from his present appearance (that is to say that he was no larger or bulkier than most of the local hounds), but instead of the recent flicker of maturity which just beginning to become visible behind the young cub's eyes in the present day, there was terror and sadness. Tears hung limply on the corners of his slanted little eyelids, threatening to spill over at any moment. His fur clung close to his body in places with moisture, and he shivered slightly as he hung there, the great specter before his sibling. This was the cave.

'_No, Yue. Listen to me,'_ he whimpered, his voice shaking with emotion and cold,_ 'If I don't do something, if I can't change the future, you're gonna die!_

'_we're both going to die in here…'_

Was that where things had changed so much for them, Yue wondered feebly to himself, with Cerberus's visions? After all, there could be no denying the obvious change that _had_ occurred—these theatrical reflections proved that. True, he had never outright _hated_ his brother before their escapade together in the blizzard, but the evidence clearly indicated that the two of them would hardly have been caught dead, _holding _each other, _comforting_—! No, much as he may have liked to deny it, there was much different now between himself and Cerberus, and it had _not_ started with the latter's nightmarish visions. Rest assured, Cerberus's doomful prophesies had no doubt been a contributing factor, but none of that explained why they had ended up in that most dire of circumstances in the first place! No, it wasn't his brother's behavior which had been the most interesting of that affair: it was his own extreme reaction which had brought them to this point in their relationship.

_He_ had changed as well as Cerberus. Before December, Yue Reed admitted, defeated, to himself, he had prided himself on his knowledge; he had relished in his logic, his intelligence—his ability to reason—before the storm, particularly in its contrast to his sibling's apparent foolishness. But there was nothing 'logical' or 'rational' about what he had done that night he had realized Cerberus was gone. A 'logical' person would have resigned himself to mild sadness, wonder about how this terrible tragedy might affect him after having realized his brother's departure. A 'rational' individual would have told himself that with the weather what it had been, Cerberus was surely already dead or soon going to be, out in the blizzard, long before anyone could safely mount a rescue, and perhaps contented himself to ensuring that he himself did not get too dangerously snowed in. Certainly such a scholar would not run out into the night, knowing far well the magnitude of the storm into which he was hurtling himself, unprotected, jeopardizing his own life for the sake of someone he detested and who was in all reason a dead man anyway—!

If he were such a brilliant intellectual, the boy thought painfully as the full weight of the truth came all at once crashing down on him, why was it he had run so rashly after Cerberus? Why was it he had fought with such primitive and unscholastic masculinity through the pounding ice, and fought the pair of them to such a fittingly primordial cave? Why, in the name of all sense, had he _cradled_ and _caressed_ his older brother, tended to his broken heart, whispered such comforts as his certainty of their escape—_felt_ the likelihood of their escape—why the _hell_ had he been so… so 'common', so 'primeval', so…

So weak. Surely, for what was he if not the bookish apprentice he had been trying with such vigor to make himself, the protégé at Clow's side? What merit could he possibly have if he couldn't hit it off as the cool, level-headed, 'brilliant' little genius? Particularly when the line he and his housemates, as magicians, walked this day and age: was it so uncommon to suggest that dire situations such as the one he and Cerberus had just escaped might be a frequent feature in their lives? Was that not why, after all, he and his brother were so connected to these cards that Clow was so preoccupied with sealing? To be their protector—and Clow's—should disaster befall them? Thus far, the two Reed siblings had given hardly any thought to the collection of elemental cards their master sorcerer was gathering together, but it could not be denied that these 'creations' of his were invariably linked to their two superiors: himself and Cerberus; and also it could not be denied that items of such power and luster were eventually bound to attract unwanted coveters. All the same, the 'Clow Cards' were at the moment only one small problem among many.

Altogether, the tragic line of thoughts almost crippled the battered, conflicted blond with their pitiful reality—of his own failure, in a sense, for what use could he have to anyone if he were so flamboyantly emotional under pressure?

Even within his head, Yue collapsed to his knees, the burning, aching condition of his sleepless form back in his bedroom beginning to impress itself upon him again. His leonine enigma of a brother certainly had a place and function here at the manor: sure, Cerberus wasn't much for raw knowledge or devising, but he was, as if to make up for this wanting, furiously strong—both in terms of physical force and endurance as well as with vicious, single-minded stubbornness. True, the boy still had much to learn about the world around him, true also that he was unlikely to ever ascend into recognition for his intellectual contributions to society, but at the very least he had _something_—one verifiable thing that one could point to and say 'this is exceptional'—_some single thing_ going for him. At least he had _one redeeming trait_ which made the furry little monster a valuable, unique, contributing member of their anomalous family. In a pinch, were they discovered for their magic by the villagers, confronted by a rival power, faced with excessive natural disaster, there could be no doubt that Cerberus Reed could leap into action and do a damn decent job of protecting Clow, his cards, the manor—all these things that, somehow, the pair of them were cosmically predestined to do on equal terms!

What use was that? Yue whispered weakly to his exhausted mind, what use was he? if he could be so frail of body, and yet

also so

fickle of mind, so

weak of heart?

The young blond collapsed into an uneasy sleep, pitifulness and exhaustion of both body and spirit at last having won out over him.

It was a cold morning, Cerberus mused; of course, they were always cold this time of year. The cool wind of the new day waltzed its way in leisurely through his high window, and spun in a flurry of whirls and twirls and dips around the little lion's head. Cerberus shivered in response.

There was something desperately familiar about this frosty feeling, but the little cub couldn't quite put his—well, okay, so _technically_ he didn't have fingers!—couldn't quite place why at any rate. Honestly, whoever thought of putting open windows in a bedroom anyway, sure, Yue must love getting the morning snow blown in on him, but to Cerberus Reed it was an unnecessary addition to his day. And why in the name of all things warm and edible he should have such an ominous feeling about some of the usual cold weather—!

The infant lion froze in his tracks, his usual annoyed and frivolous thoughts slowing to a horrible grinding halt as something nearly as icy as the surrounding wind slipped its way into the pit of his stomach.

They had a _**paned**_ window in their bedroom.

There should _be_ no wind whipping through it.

Panic and sudden realization overwhelming him, Cerberus snapped his eyes open, launching himself roughly to his feet and praying to some unknown power that he was _not_ greeted by the terrible familiar site he now feared himself a part of once more.

He was not in his bedroom. All about the frightened cub, the warm walls of the manor had been replaced by dark, hard, frigid stone, jutting out at him in irregularly hewn peaks and crevices out of the ceiling, the sides, even the floor. No happy sunbeams glimmered to him here through his tall, glassy window, but instead the only light which met the furry creature's eyes was that of a feebly flickering oil lantern, tossed haphazardly somewhere upon the stalagmite-ridden floor.

He was back here again, back in the cave—back into one of his nightmares.

"_Cerberus…_"

No, the diminutive beast whispered to himself, no, please, he didn't want to see that again… let that voice have been his imagination.

At first whisper, the faint voice that had called the little cub's name may well have been imagined, for it was as soft and unsubstantial as the whistle of the frozen wind, its tone falling so indistinctly somewhere in the tenor range that it was only too easy to imagine that it could be anyone speaking, anyone! But, as if to assure the world of its existence, as if to beg the lion in question out of his fanciful denial and to face its grim reality, the words came again, stronger, shaking with effort…

"_**Cerberus…!**_"

Cerberus himself began to tremble, his tiny body quavering spastically with the horrendous stress of holding back, but all the same, he refused to turn around, to face the terrible monster which he knew must be behind him. His eyes beginning to swim with the beginnings of tears, he bit down on his tongue so hard he feared it would bleed, but he would _not_ look behind him. He would _not_ face this nightmare again—he had gotten them out of that wretched cave! The danger was over! Why, _why_ haunt him with it now?

But the voice came again, this time the slightest of all, its tone falling in pitch as it ceased to strain and cry out to him, falling… as if it were surrendering into a near-silent submission…

"_Cerberus… please…"_

He could not pretend he didn't recognize it.

"Yue!" he yelled tearfully as he whirled around to face his demon.

The young man in question lay slumped against a nearby pile of rubble—stone and ice fallen from the snowed-in entrance beyond. He looked just as terrible as the leonine cub remembered, his fair skin almost a grey in shade and as pale as the snow, his hair matted and dripping with wet, his hands and feet frozen and blackened. He was gazing at his brother with wild, desperate eyes, the rest of him now so pale that their violet hue shone out like a beacon: the last sign of life left in his pitiful, ruined body. But though this slight burst of color stood in stark contrast from the boy's pale face, his usually sharp amethyst daggers were now softened into something more akin to a purpurescent soup, their gaze glassy and unfocused.

"_Please…" _he whispered again in the same airy tone, so feeble that even Cerberus's feline ears had to strain to make it out.

"…_Help me…_"

Then something in the depths of Yue's shining eyes seemed to fade, and, his insanity and torment peaking, his older brother tried to scream out his name. The sound, however—even the very thought, it appeared, to cry out—was drowned as the scene around the confused dreamer began to warp and reform. For a split second in time, Cerberus was freefalling, whizzing erratically though a spiral of color and motion with no clear indication of neither up nor down, ceiling or floor. Then, almost as unpredictably as the sensation had begun, the small, traumatized lion felt his feet hit solid ground again.

The world shifted into a blurry focus, as if the room all about him couldn't decide whether it should lean a little to the left or the right to straighten itself with the rest of the world. Whichever way it was supposed to go, Cerberus thought nauseatingly to himself, he really wished it would hurry up and figure it out—or if it couldn't, he would be perfectly happy as well if it would just stop where it was, crooked or not, and he would just walk sideways the rest of this nightmare. (It certainly couldn't be more sickening than watching this thing argue over the issue.)However, the walls did at last seem to decide which direction *up* was, and kindly enough, both consented to stand pointing straight at it. All the same, it took the turned-about cub a moment or two to take in his surroundings—although the scene had stopped moving, it was still desperately dark. Fortunately for this off-the-wall hero, one of the special privileges of being born feline was that darkness wasn't nearly as much of a problem (once his eyes adjusted) as it would be for his brother or Clow.

The first thing which came into his view, fading gradually out of the shadows beyond, like a haunting specter, was the half-formed image of a long stream of deep red cloth. It billowed out before the young cub—seeming to knit itself into its final form before his very eyes—and ever so slowly, transmuted itself into a vast wall of curtains, each shifting slightly from the faint draft which snuck in from their respectively guarded windows. They were horribly familiar to the young lion, as was the deep grey of ceiling, floor, wall around them as they appeared out of space. Walls became stone. The ceiling became vaulted. The floor beneath him became a dark, smooth wood.

He was in the manor!

Specifically, Cerberus thought to himself as a horrible sickening feeling slid its way back down to the pit of his stomach, he was in the red lounge. Clow's lounge: the one to which he and Yue had been brought after they had escaped the cave. The place where he and his master had engaged in that darkest of discussions—the reason for which he was now fighting his hardest to keep his brother away from the older man. A glance to his left, towards the shadowy figures of a ruby-toned chaise lounge and an old, solitary piano, confirmed his rapidly growing fears. This was the place he and Clow had fought, and—even if this was a dream—it was the first time he had come back to this place since the incident. There was a strange aura of foreboding overcoming him now—as if the once brave little investigator were now stepping onto the scene of a horrible crime, only hours after the deed itself had been committed. The dark crimson curtains hanging before him he couldn't help but associate with hot blood—with passion—as with the faintly glowing embers of the fireplace at his back, only just now starting to creep up on his peripheral vision. This whole room was painted a vicious scarlet with the horrors of pain and lust which radiated out of it. Because it was Clow's. Because of what he knew now of Clow's role in their future. And he had been brought here, to this place for a reason. Cerberus's heart began to pound harder for fear and anticipation. His dreams had brought him to this place, this sinister room which already made him uneasy with the new feelings of a dreadful future which he now associated with it. Why? What horrible, _terrifying_, _**putrid**_ plan could his nightmares have in store?

Phantasmal words began to echo out of the unending space about the young cub: "_I will never hurt him"_ the ghost whispered, its voice distant and filled with the forerunners of a cackle so sinister that Cerberus would never truly believe it of the man Clow Reed. Here it comes, he thought fervently to himself, here comes the torment, the nightmare!

"_You're so wrong about me, Cerberus."_

No, no! He _mustn't_ turn around! He didn't want to see this mockery, this _**horror**_ that his sleeping mind had in store for him!

"_Come and join us by the fire…" _The voice from beyond was riddled with slyness and evil. What would he find when it made him—

…

Without meaning to, as if he had no control over his body whatsoever, Cerberus found himself whirling about on the floor, turning to face the haunting voice from the shadows…

…For a moment, he was blinded once more by the sudden introduction of light, flowing at him now from the dying embers of the room's fireplace.

The first thing he could see clearly was the pair of high-backed chairs, their repeating pattern almost indiscernible for the darkness in which they found themselves. Just beyond these was the dark, indistinct outline of a pair of figures standing just before the fire. Cerberus tried to look away, tried not to see! But the dream would not let him interfere, and his eyes became fixed on the scene as if they were being tethered there by an invisible string. The first thing which came to his notice—besides his own panting breath and terror-bound heart—were sounds, not images, as his eyes momentarily paused to adjust. In the depths of the shadows, mere feet from Cerberus's place on the floor, came the strangest of sounds: an unnerving sucking sort of noise, like some great, demented baby trying in vain to swallow down the last drop of milk out of his mother's unyielding breast. He could not quite say why it seemed to unnatural to his ears, nor why such a noise, with its rhythmic cycles, made him shiver and twitch with each wave it thrust over him. Perhaps it was the other sound, the more familiarly appalling sound which accompanied each of these great sucking heaves. The unmistakable sound of labored, gasping breath also filled the room: its owner choking in desperate lungfuls of air like clockwork with each of the attacks it sustained by the demonic infant Cerberus perceived to be its company, and then releasing them again in a shaking, wavering stream as it braced itself for the next assault.

He didn't want to see! This was enough, he was too frightened—! Squeezing his eyes closed for the one moment his nightmare would allow, Cerberus Reed pleaded with himself to wake up—to end this now—to spare him from seeing this horror show which he knew must be upon him from the very moment he recognized those damned curtains!

But there was no reprieve. And in the space of less than a minute, the little lion saw all.

The two figures formed themselves—almost unrecognizable for the pitiful condition they were both depicted in, but familiar enough none the less that the sight of the pair of them nearly broke the little lion's heart on impact. Clow stood the taller of the two, his back bent and hunched so as to get a better hold on the other in his arms. His back was turned to Cerberus, but his face set in profile so that where the young cub sat, mortified, he could have a perfectly clear view of exactly what kind of monstrosity was being enacted before him. A long, black, satiny cape billowed about him, tossed across his back and cascading down the other side of his wide body so that it fell, like a backdrop to his little escapade, between himself and the fire. Beneath this a dark and stained vest shone in the faint light, its red color faded with decades of use and millennia of dust, and the deep splatter upon it reminding Cerberus horribly of—of the most sinister of deeds, the evidence of which had almost stained the garment an even worse shade of scarlet at one point or another, he was sure. (He couldn't say the word, the word for those putrid stains! He could not admit to that!HH) His glasses were thrown askew upon his sweaty face, and his hair was longer and unkempt—flying so wildly behind him, it might have caught fire in the gate if one had been burning! In his arms lay another familiar figure, half limp from weakness and almost corpse-like in that fashion—his broken body half-embraced by Clow and half-supported for the fear that his legs would give way underneath him if the monstrous beast let go. Unlike the dark, black, and wicked dress of the—the _thing_—cradling him, Yue was dressed nearly all in white. All around his thin, frail body was cloaked in an unending ripple of clean, white silk, trailing all down him and onto the floor like an elaborately wrapped robe. There was one bit of color, however, and whether for its importance to the scene, or for one more thing to keep him from looking into his brother's face, Cerberus forced all of his attention onto it. From the nape of his neck and cascading fluidly down to the floor was a single, red expanse of cloth. It streaked across the young boy's breastbone like a fat, ugly gash upon the whiteness of his garments, and slithered its way, snakelike onto the wood beneath. Yue's chest heaved with the effort of each breath, and the gash widened and waned, the snake below shaking and wriggling with movement.

Cerberus could avoid reality no longer, and with terror and anguish at the horror around him still wild in his breast, he forced himself to gaze upon the fullness of the scene before him.

Clow stood tall, his vast arms barely keeping Yue from falling, withered, to the ground. He was bent over strangely, grotesquely, an ugly combination of a vicious predator bearing down upon its prey and a cruel alpha male wildly pinning down its ravaged mate. Yue was like a ragdoll in his hands, his pale hands hanging uselessly at his sides, eyes glassy and distant, his head resting helplessly upon his masters shoulder. With a similarly animalistic fierceness, Clow was borne down upon the frail boy, his lips tearing hungrily at a vast open wound at the side of his throat. Yue's neck was extended so far that Cerberus could just see the faint flickering of a frantic pulse beating just above where the suckling beast had latched itself, red beads of some sinister scarlet (he could _not_ say the word, _could not!)_ trickling out as the creature released and regained its suction. His brain only half comprehending, the mortified lion cub watched with plastered terror as the monster Clow Reed licked and sucked at his brother's torn neck, mouthful after mouthful sucking the lifeblood straight from the heart of his victim. And as they stood there, beast clasping its prey, Cerberus watched the rhythmic surging of the predator's throat as it greedily drank its fill of Yue Reed's remaining life. And, swallow for swallow, he watched as the beast grew darker, ruddier, its face, its hands, its meaty arms growing fatter and redder with the flush of new blood. And all the while, as Clow grew darker, Yue grew paler—it was a comedy of science, the perfect depiction of equal and opposite reactions, of a circuit flowing cleanly from one to the other, and receiving nothing in return. He watched with held breath as his brother's face grew lighter and lighter still, beyond its usual pallor, until he was paler even than the snowy silk stuck to his ribs…

…

_YUE!_

Cerberus wasn't sure at first if he screamed aloud or in his mind. Whichever it was, the sound was all the little cub knew for several moments as he jolted awake in his bed. For a split second, nothing seemed to be in order, his still horror-stricken brain struggling to comprehend the new flurry of lights, movements, and sounds as he tossed and turned frantically, tangling himself in his covers.

But after a good deal of thrashing and hurling about in his now tangled mass of sheets, Cerberus Reed at last seemed to come to his senses, and collapsed exhaustedly upon his familiar bed. Thank God, he was back. It was over. For quite some time, he lay there, panting, his heart still pounding like an army drummer in his chest. Were he human, he likely would have been coated in a fine veil of sweat, but in his felineness, it was much more his twisted bed sheets which felt the full brunt of his few overexerting sweat glands, rather than his thick orange fur (standing nearly on end for the stress and fear still surging through him). What _was_ that! He asked to himself, as he lay there, collapsed, trying to calm his panicking body back to normal. What was the _point_ of that torture! Was that what compassion—what concern would mean for him now? A constant fury of images, night and day—an unending nightmare cycle of his little brother in horrible distress? He was surely headed for an early grave if so, but surely that couldn't be the answer. He had had no visions, no nightmares since returning from the cave. Why would they suddenly resurface now—and in such a metaphorical array rather than the crystal clear outlining of events they were before? What could it all mean?

Once he had lain like this for a while, and had begun to regain himself, the small, shaken lion forced himself upright and, haphazardly untangling himself, lowered his still trembling paws onto the floor. He only took a slight glance around the room—part of him was still frightened of what horrendous apparitions might suddenly throw themselves at him from some unseen corner. It was better to just inconspicuously make his way downstairs and wait for the morning's normal routine to shake the last bits of terror out of him. As he crossed his bedroom, however, there was still one thing which nearly made his heart stop cold in his chest all over again. Though it was easily near midday (judging by the position of the sun as it gushed light through his window), in the far bed, opposite his, his younger brother still lay collapsed—and even more strangely, with his blankets pulled as high as they would go. Despite himself, Cerberus couldn't help but think for a moment that his nightmares had come true! That perhaps he was—! Gently, against his better judgment, he inched over towards Yue's bed. As he approached, however, the placid rustling of his sheets, the slow, deep rhythm of his slumbering breath served to calm his fears. (Besides that, he couldn't help goading himself, with a glance towards the sleeping boy's uncovered throat, no holes.) Yue must just have had a late night again. Probably in the library. Giving his slumbering sibling a quick, tender nuzzling, Cerberus Reed at last made his way out of the room, shutting the door quietly as he could before making his way down to Clow and the breakfast table.

The late-morning sun was streaming in the window of the makeshift downstairs dining hall too, which was where he found Clow. With almost undue brilliance, it was shooting through the icy panes in fat, long rays gleaming with the reflected glow of the snow lying like a blanket just outside the glass. Clow Reed was sitting just before the window—the perfect still life. He was settled in a tall, winged armchair, a book in one hand, a steaming cup of tea resting on the table to his left. The light coming in from the outside was reflecting off his glasses, making them opaque in places, and from the pipe he was absentmindedly sucking on was puffing perfect little balls of smoke as he read. He might have been an oil painting for the serenity with which he sat there, blowing smoke puffs: a portrait of the pristine aristocracy. Surely, there could be no traces, Cerberus thought to himself with new calm, of the monster he had seen in his nightmares.

Timidly, so as not to disturb the content-looking magician, the little lion took a few steps into the room. He had no need to announce himself, however, for the instant he crossed the threshold, the older man looked up from his reading and smiled warmly in his son's direction. "Ah, Cerberus," he nodded to his companion as the cub bounded over to join his master by the sunlight. "I was starting to think I was all alone in this house."

Seeing his welcoming grin, Cerberus at last threw his ridiculous nightmare out of his mind and, with his usual morning energy regained, hopped up to take the open chair beside Clow. "Guess I must have had a restless night," He laughed, as Clow pushed a plate of toast and marmalade in his direction across their shared side table, "I don't usually sleep this late—even in January! Of course," he added slyly, "It could also have something to do with the fact that sleeping beauty in there isn't around to bag me like a game animal in some loose blankets."

Clow grinned, whether at the joyous way he mocked Yue or the thought of him thrashing about like a caught fox, the leonine beast couldn't be sure. Knowing Clow, it was probably something entirely unrelated: he was weird like that. Before Cerberus could continue debating the peculiarity of his housemate's intellect, however, the taller sorcerer spoke again: his face still smiling, but something in his voice slightly less airy than it had been before. "Yue is still asleep then?" He remarked casually, though his eyes seemed suddenly darkened with concern.

"Yeah," Cerberus replied, searching his master's face for some sign of the sudden interest, "Seemed to be sleeping pretty easily though. He probably just had a late night—studying in the library or something—you know he doesn't like to miss out on sleep."

The morning sunlight streaming past them, the glow of the pure white snow out the window gleaming with the bright and innocent air of the day, the little lion tried too to keep the conversation light though something in him was sending off silent alarms regarding the wizard sitting beside him. He knew that Clow meant well—surely a man so whimsical of heart couldn't truly hold any malicious intentions like the monsters Cerberus had dreamt about—but all the same, there was something sad, tragic in this burning obsession with his younger son, which the lion cub likewise knew full well was brewing inside the man. He wasn't quite clear on the hows or whys of the situation, but all the same, he was _certain_ that nothing good could come of these darker, more primordial feelings which were beginning to spring out of his senior magician. Whatever this was developing between Clow and Yue, he was sure that it was not meant to be. His final vision—the secret one which he had not informed his brother of—from the cave had showed him that. Despite his loose attempts at a smile, however, and the young boy's feigned joviality of voice, the fall of Clow's grinning face spoke clearly that he could understand every thought which was now flying through his child's mind. For a time, only silence echoed throughout the small room. Cerberus accepted it grudgingly: this seemed to be a permanent feature now when he and Clow were left alone together—this all-encompassing silence. The fuzzy young sorcerer sighed, and leaned back in his chair, half-heartedly munching toast while he waited. His elder also leaned back slightly, taking his pipe back up and blowing several thought-filled rounds of smoke puffs.

At last, Clow spoke again, though no longer of anything so fleeting as the state of the morning. "I don't understand, Cerberus. Why is it that you suddenly hate me so greatly? That you won't even leave me alone to explore the most superficial levels of his heart for fear that I'll break it?" Neither of them needed the clarification of an antecedent.

"I don't _fear_." The small creature corrected, turning round and meeting his companion's gaze with the utmost seriousness. "I saw glimpses of the future—the far future. I _know_."

Clow made a strange scoffing noise at the back of his throat and collapsed back into the pillowy folds of his chair, determinedly keeping his gaze straight forward. "I suppose that's why you conveniently crashed in on the two of us yesterday evening?" he asked, his tone unreadable. He didn't seem to be looking for an answer.

"What were the two of you talking about?" Cerberus asked menacingly. "I know you sealed a card."

"'The Shadow'." Clow replied with a nod, though he still did not turn to meet the cub's eyes. "For some reason, your brother seems to be afraid of his darker side—his humanity if you ask me. I asked him what had transpired while I was away last month: what could have possibly ended in the pair of you trapped in a frozen cavern. I think," he continued, blowing another vast smoke ring "he frightened himself that night with the raw emotion he felt. Yue is used to being dominating, being in control. I suspect he is fearful of an even deeper nature within him over which he has no control. He fears the truth that his heart may be dominant over his mind—he has not yet found a way to reconcile himself with that reality. I'm afraid," the sorcerer whispered, his gaze turning upwards towards the ceiling, as if he could somehow see straight through it to the faraway bedroom where the young boy in question still lay sleeping. "I'm afraid it may have left him in horrible conflict."

Against his will, Cerberus felt his eyes creep upward as well, joining his master's in placid contemplation of something beyond the stony ceiling. If what Clow was saying were true, then the two of them might, unfortunately, have some common ground on this particular mission. If Yue truly was as confused as this man implied, then the two of them might, feasibly, have the same concerns at heart. Perhaps, for the moment, they could work together in harmony. But even so, something at the back of his mind—possibly even the places his nightmares came from—told the young lion that even though Clow's concern for his second son might be genuine, nothing good was going to come from his interference in this particular matter.

It was midafternoon before Yue Reed coaxed himself back into consciousness. For a moment, he merely lay there, eyes softly closed and his covers still gathered up to his throat. He was taking in the world around him: making sure that he truly did want to rejoin the living, that wakefulness would not still be the anguish it had been last night. His mind still felt groggy, sluggish, and parts of his body still ached with the strange demon that had come over him yesterday evening. But even though the ghosts of his tormentors still lingered somewhere deep within him, the young sorcerer was more greatly relieved that the majority of their symptoms had apparently passed him. His heart no longer raced like a wild animal inside him, and gone also was the burning fever which had ripped his psyche apart in the night. Slowly, lethargically, Yue opened his eyes.

The lateness of the hour was apparent from the image of the dark room which met his vision. Instead of crisp morning frost, the panes of his tall bedroom window were instead dripping with melting ice and snow. Cerberus's bed was haphazardly made, the wrinkles and curls where he hadn't bothered to flatten his sheets limp and depressed for having been left alone for so many hours. And instead of gleaming rays of light, the view through the glass was of a distorted, afternoon sky, the sun already having migrated to the other side of the house. The young sorcerer sighed, his mind simultaneously riddled with guilt at having slept so long and the temptation to collapse back against his pillow and slumber a bit longer. For once in his life, he had no ambition to fulfill his obligations of going forth and sharing the company of his housemates.

Eventually, the need to have some idea what was going on in the day drove him to sit up, his blankets and his unbraiding tresses cascading around him as he did so. He leaned forward, letting his hair fall across his sweaty face, and gripped the edge of his mattress tightly, making sure that the shift in position didn't make his veins pound once more. At last, contented that he was steady enough to stand, Yue eased himself to his feet. His outermost blanked he wrapped around his shoulders despite himself, not completely wanting to leave their comfort. Then, with an unsteady gate—which was nothing like the grace was usually gifted with—he made his way out of the room.

Though Cerberus often complained about the confines of the winding hallways of the upper eastern and western wings of the house, here, in these halls just outside their bedroom, the walkways were straight and spacious—lined with windows all along the northernmost hall branch, most of which could be opened to the elements. A cool, January breeze was blowing in through many of these. Though he had been granted no part in selecting his and his brother's shared bedroom, Yue thought to himself as he approached one of the tall, arched casements, this was why he relished in Cerberus's choice. Though the tall panes in their room reflected plenty of sunlight, it was these portals to the outside air just beyond his bedroom door for which he was the most thankful. All but perhaps two or three of these tall, arch-topped windows flew open as he approached, their shudders thrown wide by either wind or unconscious magic—he couldn't be certain. One way or another, the frigid outdoor wind rushed in like an invisible stampede, dragging in tiny bits of snow and ice with it as it blew all around the young boy, tousling his lank, sweaty hair. Inching closer, Yue let himself collapse into the nearest of these now-open windows, resting his arms against the cold, ice-kissed stone, and leaning forward so that the winds caught his face as they swept past the building front. Sighing with gratitude at the feel of the cold afternoon on his skin, the exhausted young blond closed his eyes, letting the breeze take his long tresses and whip them about his broken body as if they were dancing upon the air. Though he still kept his thick brown blanket hanging loosely about his shoulders, eyes still softly shut, taking in the wonder of the frost, Yue reached down and unfastened the front of his shirt, letting the wind whip in and lick at his chest too—mercifully cool against his clammy flesh.

He was determined not to do anything—to think of anything. It was thinking to himself—fighting with himself—that was tearing him apart. Not now, not this moment. God grant him this one moment of peace… before he would inevitably be thrown back into the pit.

There was a soft fluttering sound beside him, like the unmistakable sound of feathers lightly beating the air. Yue didn't open his eyes, but he could sense even without looking what exactly had come to join him here on the north face.

"Pretty chilly afternoon, isn't it?" a voice commented seriously from his side. Though he needed no vocal cue to identify his company (the rush of warmth which was washing over his senses could only belong to one person), he doubted he would have recognized his brother's voice for the sudden change in his tone. Rather than the high-pitched, shrieking noise the younger boy usually associated with Cerberus's speech, the voice that muttered to him now was deeper, softer, without any of the usual pretenses of comedy that it usually frequented.

"Thank heaven it is." Yue replied faintly, "I'm not sure I could take much more entrapment without it." He at last opened his eyes as he spoke, and chanced a glance in his visitor's direction. Cerberus was perched the next window over, his wings folded neatly beside him. With the expanse of wall between them, Yue could see little more than the cub's vast feet from where he stood, leaning out the neighboring archway.

There was something eating away at him; the same questions that had been buzzing about his head all last night. But did he dare speak of them? He was certain that Cerberus had come to him now for a reason. He must somehow know—have some idea the sorts of conflicts that were whizzing about in his brain, for what else could have prompted him to come here? What else could have driven such a dolt as his older brother to come and sit with him here unless it was the same forces which had forewarned him of the beast's landing beside him? There was no logical explanation save for the same strange connection the two of them seemed to have innately—no matter how ridiculous the notion might seem (different as the brothers undoubtedly were). Cerberus must have been thinking about him… but did he dare speak of what was truly on his mind? What could this idiotic lion possibly do for his complicated situation that a night of tossing and turning could not?

…All the same, Cerberus seemed to be waiting, patiently, serenely. In an insane world, it made perfect sense.

"Cerberus," Yue began, softly, weakly. Already he was starting to feel his helplessness return. "Do you think I'm crazy?" His voice cracked with the last. Perhaps he couldn't take this after all. Perhaps it was better to just lay down and die.

But Cerberus did answer. In a tone calm—and almost wise—he murmured an answer from his perch on the adjacent window, and it carried on the wind, and whirled round his brother like a specter: "No I do not." He whispered pensively, "I don't think you're crazy.

"The question is," the unseen lion continued after a moment's pause, "What would make _you_ think such things?"

Yue sighed (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately) and didn't reply immediately. He was suddenly starting to feel very tired and unwell again, and was starting to wish he had stayed in bed. The winds rushed by again, sending his long silvery hair fanning across his face, and in the distance, the shook the dead, leafless branches of the surrounding trees. "Clow asked me about the blizzard." He muttered at length, his eyes still watching the distant trees.

"I see." Cerberus responded easily—just as he had suspected, Yue thought to himself, that much his brother had known already. "If I remember correctly," he continued, more cautiously now "You were actually quite…heroic that day—that night. You…" The small lion's words cut off abruptly, as if they had now reached an impasse: a place that Cerberus himself didn't truly want to go with their discussion. The roaring wind momentarily became their only companion. "You protected me.

"You saved my life more than once, though I'd done nothing to deserve it. "

"_You_ saved us the second time." Yue pointed out, half-heartedly, as if to avoid the rest of the topic, "I couldn't get us out of the cave—"

"That's not what I meant!"

Cerberus's voice cut across the air like a newly-sharpened broadsword, and Yue felt he could almost perceive the whipping sensation of his words as they sliced through him, halting his mantra immediately with the shock of impact.

"Don't you understand? Don't you get what power you really have here? We only got out of there for one reason, Yue…" For a moment, the lion's words broke off again. It was seeming as if this conversation were doomed to go nowhere. But then, slowly, his voice now higher again, unsteady and shaken, Cerberus began to speak once more—and though this tone was weak, he seemed to command the attention of even the roaring wind itself. "The only reason I was able to break through that snow, is because you kept me going."

"Cerberus, what are you—?"

"Listen to me!" The beast insisted, again lashing his words out like a whip—silencing his sibling instantly. But it took another moment again, now that he had been stopped, for Cerberus to find the strength to speak once more. The air stood still with anticipation, and he took what sounded like a shaky breath before continuing, now more unsteady than ever. "You ran out in that storm all those nights ago because of one thing, and one thing only—and it had nothing to do with brains or logic—or _anything_ that Clow will ever understand.

"It was the same reason you carried me into that cave when you found me in the snow. The same reason that you went out of your way to convince me that everything was going to be alright—even when the odds were clearly against us! "

"What… are you getting at, Cerberus?" Yue asked weakly, his head already starting to spin again with confusion and conflict: as if the little lion's words were truly buzzing about within him, tearing him up inside as they whirled about in their fury.

"Everything, Yue, was for one goal: You protected me. That was your only thought that night. Look, your head may say I'm an arsehole—hell, you'd probably be right!—but that isn't what's ruling you. I don't think now that's _ever_ been what's determined what you do or say, Yue!"

"Cerberus—!"

"_Listen_! It's been this way since the beginning, don't you see? But Clow was such an intellectual, and you were such a bookworm, no one noticed—not until there was some real pressure involved! You fight with me—all the time! We argue, you insult, I usually lose because you're craftier than me! But that's not something that Clow could ever do! He _is_ a true intellectual—he _is_ ruled completely by logic and reason most of the time, but you never have been. Do you even remember how this whole 'blizzard' situation started? I told you about Hawkins—about Dr. Benjamin Hawkins, the friend Clow lost because he tried to save you, six months ago. And I said that because I knew I could hurt you—I knew, if you heard of such a thing, you would just crack and go be depressed in a corner somewhere and I could have my revenge. I didn't even think about it then, but I should have realized! That same routine would never have worked on Clow, he's too dry! Too detached from his emotions! But you're not. You're not like him at all. You're ruled by your heart, Yue, not your mind, but you just happened to be smart enough and smooth enough most of the time that none of us took notice!

Do you remember what you did after I told you about Hawkins? _After _you went and cried about it to Clow? You snuck out, day after day, down to the village—where, by the way, they would _hang you_ if they found out what you were—just so you could make it all better! That seems to be your one insatiable drive, Yue: the need to make it all better again—to comfort! _That_ sort of protectiveness! Our job, if you want to specifically outline it is to protect the cards from danger—and probably, by extension, to keep Clow out of trouble too. And trust me, Yue, you may not be some dry mind like you've been wanting to pretend to yourself, and you may not have been born innately with as much physical strength as me, but trust me when I say you are probably the one thing holding this association of ours together! You're far from useless to us, don't you get it? You've been strong in different ways than me—and you've long-since made up for the inborn physical power you lacked!"

"…But you've said it all yourself, Cerberus," The younger boy cut in while the little lion had paused for breath, "If I'm weak of heart, then—"

"Not _weak_ of heart, Yue, _strong_. That's my point! Your emotionality, your gift for compassion _is_ strength, not a burden! It means that while Clow and I can avoid reality, can pretend that everything's alright even when it's clearly falling to pieces, you can't. You can't ignore a problem, Yue, when something's clearly wrong, and you… you can't leave someone else to suffer—even if they thoroughly deserve what they're getting—even if it has nothing to do with you! You… you just can't bear to see someone in pain: you have to take charge then, and make it right again. You can't just walk away, you have too much your heart invested already in everyone you know—you can't pretend you don't care. _You_ aren't capable of it! _That's why_ you helped Clow and tried to give him a chance to get his old mate back—you couldn't stand to see him in pain, so you stuck your own neck out to spare him his suffering. When I ran away and that blizzard struck, you couldn't even think about what was logical because, much as you tried to hate me, you couldn't stand it to save yourself if it meant letting me die! You had to protect us—you had to protect us both, because you _can't _suppress your compassion, Yue! And in the cave! I was able to get us out of there because you wouldn't _let me_ give up! There were…

"There were times in there, Yue, that I forgot which of us was supposed to be the oldest—because you took care of me. You got down to my level, and comforted me, and told me everything was going to be alright—that you wouldn't _let_ my nightmares come true even though you knew that in all reasonableness, they might have. I knew I deserved to be there, I was the one who had done wrong. But I found the strength to use magic—to get us out of there—because I couldn't bear the thought of letting you die with me… when all you'd ever done was care about us all. Was fight for me when I was too terrified by visions and shortcomings to do anything myself.

You're not a philosopher, Yue—you're at the mercy of your heart, not coolly controlled by your mind. It's called passion, and paternal drive. It's meant to have a positive connotation."

As Cerberus finished, the last of his words echoed throughout the empty corridor which stood behind the both of the two siblings, as if it refused to die. There was a moment when the wind still remained frozen, holding its breath for the tension to break. Outside, the sun was starting to become fat and wide in the sky, its white light beginning to fade into the war, yellow glow of the approaching evening.

"Please don't be mad at me, Yue." Cerberus whispered at long last, softly shattering the heavy silence which had consumed the world around them.

"I'm not mad…" the young blond responded quietly, a moment later. It seemed the conversation had come full circle—though Cerberus hoped Yue meant his words as dually as they appeared to be. "You're probably right, actually… I never was like Clow. But I have no way to explain to him. He can never understand… affairs of the heart. He's too distant…

"And," Yue whispered after a moment's pause, his voice commanding with finality though his words were still only softly spoken. "I really think I should lie back down."

"Take care of yourself, Yue." Cerberus muttered back as Yue turned from his window and down the hallway, away from him. For the first time since he had landed there, the little lion turned himself around, and he watched his brother's back as it disappeared into the distance. "He wears his heart on his sleeve," he whispered to himself, "and someday, chronically, Clow is going to shatter it."

The air around the manor began to chill itself once more as evening began to dawn. The snow covering the front lawn was hardening again, offering more resistance to the severally padded and booted feet which wandered across it. The glare of the ice and the whiteness was fading away as the dunes of snow and crystals took on the warmer hue of the setting sun. High above them, up in the eastern wing of the vast stone façade, the glow of a single burning lamp emulated the burning coolness of the wide, red sky outside. It's flickering light, like the evening sun, casting an orange halo upon all that it touched. It hung, untouched and unnoticed upon the wall inside the first bedroom of the east side, where an exhausted young blond boy had lit it before collapsing into the bed at the far side of the room. The candle light caught his outline in its glow as he twitched and struggled in his sleep: It lit the contours of his chest as he gasped and heaved; it caught the beads of sweat as they sparkled down his face; it reflected the silhouette of his half-covered body as he tossed and turned with the nightmares surely whizzing about in his head.

Deep inside his mind, Yue was fighting and struggling with something that was not at all the restful slumber he had envisioned for himself. Although… it was not at all like the horrendous nightmares he had had the previous night either.

…

The world was a blur of color and sound. A great, encompassing darkness, spread across the landscape. Everything was spinning around him—nothing was still. Pinpoint blurs of white against the darkness must have been stars, quivering in the sky above. The shaking outline of pale silvery rays must have been the full moon, hanging low in the heavens. Shadowy figures darted past. He could only see flashes of their forms, momentary insights…

A glimpse of bright orange, a flash of white feathers. An enormous beast dominated the landscape. Cerberus? He was screaming, shouting. Snarling angrily at something in front of him with a voice so deep and full that the dreaming boy could never have recognized it.

Where were they? What was going on? Was this…the future? Where was _he_?

A younger voice was crying out into the night. Higher. Feminine. Terrified.

Somewhere… in tis night, a wide eyed little girl, all dressed in crimson and gold, was screaming in terror, though he couldn't understand why. Her words rang in his ears, but they were unintelligible to him: some foreign tongue which he had not even heard anything like before…

"Zenzen wakanai-yo! Dou-iu-koto nano!"

He tried desperately to hang on to her screams, but her foreign speech ran out of his mind like a sieve. Like trying to hold water in cupped hands, he couldn't retain it. Cerberus was screaming too, in the same, strange language. Where did he learn? Was this something his mind was inventing, or was it reality? Surely he couldn't be expected to understand.

Yue still couldn't see properly: if this was the future, it wanted to make damn sure it wasn't reveling too much of itself to him.

Then another voice shot out across the depth of the night. Cold, cruel. It also spoke in the mysterious tongue of the young girl, all but crying in the distance. It was laughing manically, mockingly at his snarling brother, but it was also horribly familiar.

"Aikawarazu…" Yue heard his own, older voice hiss from somewhere unseen, "_amai na_."

It was getting almost to be too much to bear….the flurry of lights, colors, shadows—the impassioned speech which he could not understand. But even if he could not see, could not hear, somehow (though he seemed to be floating like a specter within this scene, apart from his mysterious and cold dream-self), he could still feel. Horribly, truthfully, he could sense the pain and the terror of the little girl in his midst—he could sense the fury and the defensiveness of his brother before him. And, most terribly, he could sense his own blinded anguish—the pain and the torment reverberating out of his 'future' doppelganger. He was violent, emotional, and he was out of control.

Flashes of colors flew past, explosions and screams pierced the night. Everything seemed to be moving at hyper-speed. Yue closed his eyes for fear of it all. The scene around him settled. Now the young girl was standing just in front of him, glassy green light reflecting off her eyes. Her voice was gentle, kind.

"'_aruji' toka janakute….'nagayoshi' ni—"_

Winds whipped all around him—he was trapped within their grasp. Like phantoms, the displaced boy could see strands of his long, silvery hair brushing indistinctly across his face as they were blown by the swirling gusts. Defeat had overtaken him moments ago—it had been an entire night of flaring emotions: anger, fury, sadness, dejectedness—but now for a split second, there was a moment of hope in it all. She need not have been kind to him, but was all the same. Perhaps there was grace in his defeat…

…The night changed. The moon was less full now, and farther in the sky, judging by his hazy view of it. There was something massive towering on the horizon. The same young voice was screaming in his ears, this time wordlessly. She was terrified, yet again, but not out of confusion this time. They were in trouble. He had never wanted anything to do with her, but even so, in the split second he had, his internal nature could do nothing else but overtake him: he had to protect her!

The quick onset of pain struck him as really as if it had been happening to the blond's own, living body back at the manor, but it did not wake him yet…

…Many months away now. There was sunlight streaming through the surrounding windows. Everything was white-washed and pale. He still could see none of it in more than indistinct, moving blurs. A flash of green and amber flitted across his vision. There was the sound of a young lady crying, helplessness and sorrow seemingly pouring out of her from wherever she stood in the distance.

"_Gommen-nasai! …karada ga tarinai—! …kie-sou ni nattetan—!"_

She was screaming, crying again, in words his present self could neither comprehend nor retain in any amount. The voice was the same, however, always the same, the same little girl. Who was she? What was the point?

She was in pain, he could tell. His dream-self seemed to have no problem understanding her. He had to take care of her. He couldn't leave her like this, in misery. Especially not when he was involved…

"_Yakusoku shitanda…." _Was he involved somehow? It was so hard to be certain of anything.

"_omae wo mamoru-to…"_ But did it matter? Cerberus was right…

"…_Dakara, nakana…"_

Without understanding, somehow, the younger Yue Reed knew well what he must be saying to the crying child flitting in and out of his vision. It was alright—everything was alright. There was no need to cry… Cerberus was right!

…Night had returned, but there were no blurs for stars now, nor the hazy glow of moonlight. She was screaming—screaming this time unlike anything he had heard before. There was fire somewhere far off. She needed them both now—she was in danger. Cerberus was shouting something—he sounded terrified. Fury and impassioned determination flooded through him. He had to reach her. God rest the soul that stood in his way!

…he was standing on a rooftop on a very different night. The stars were whizzing past him, but the moon was new. There was a new voice now, deeper, more menacing than anything he had heard yet. He could see nothing of this man: _ALL_ was in shadow now. Even so, the very sense of his aura, the very awareness of his presence made his blood pound faster. He was the true danger. But who was he? Again, Yue heard his own voice hissing in the night in a strange tongue that he could not comprehend as of yet. The man shouted back at him, a sinister laugh—! Who the _hell_ was he? And why could a man from the future terrify him so much now—?

Suddenly, the conversation became English…

"I won't let you harm her." Yue's older, lower voice warned to the shadowy blur beyond him. There was something in his arms… a young woman, but he couldn't see her properly.

"…You would die…" the evil shadows whispered

"Then I would die."

There was an immense explosion of light. Yue tried to fight off the urge to scream, but his tormented, torn apart consciousness was too weak—! He _would_ die like this, he felt. Not his futuristic twin, but his present self! He was being torn apart, he was sure! He was wounded! He was dying! He was plummeting to earth!

But at least she had a chance now. _She_ was safe, and that was all that mattered. He cared about her too much to see her destroyed too. Cerberus was right… all those years ago. No! it wasn't years ago! It was hours ago! It was January 1682, and it was hours ago!

The last thing he heard before he struck the ground was the sound of a young woman screaming his name…

…

Rather than dying, Yue Reed woke with a start.

For a few seconds, he still felt as if he were falling through the air—as if he really had struck the ground from stories in the air. His heart was racing and there was not a thing he could do to calm it. He was feeling sick and nauseous again, but a part of him was simply grateful that he felt so pitiful—grateful that he was still alive and _able to_ feel ill!

It took him a moment more to take in his surroundings. The familiar walls and dark, brown sheets of his bedroom thankfully met his gaze. Thank the heavens! He was in the manor! His entire body was shaking now like a leaf, and every part of him seemed to have broken out in a cold sweat, but none of it hardly mattered anymore! He was young again: he was still young, it was the 17th century, Cerberus was still a little squeaky-sounding cub, he didn't know any small girls or young women—he and everyone he knew spoke English exclusively (except possibly for Clow, who _had_ been raised in China). Actually, now that he thought about it, Clow was the only one absent from his nightmares… He wished he could remember some of it, but the longer he sat there, the more his dreams seemed to run away from him. It was as if they were water, and no matter how hard he tried to carry it in his hands, more and more of it slipped away through his fingers. (Hadn't he used that analogy recently on something else? He couldn't remember properly. Already, so much had slipped away.)

Even as the details of his nightmares faded away, however, one thing remained with the young boy: He had to find Clow. He had to speak with him. Cerberus was right, he was protective, and he was emotionally driven, and he knew now the only way he could explain to his master all that had happened to them a month prior, in the blizzard.

But he had to find him immediately—his body and mind were already weak again with stress and conflict. He had to find Clow while his passions could still drive him to do something crazy!

…

Clow Reed stood on the edge of the front lawn, just looking out towards the limp, leafless trees which obscured the trail down to Lightwater village. He waited there, feet sinking into the hardening ice like a permanent feature painted on the horizon. He held his staff in one hand, like a walking stick, and was leaning on it as he sunk lower and lower into the slush, long black cloak billowing about him all the while. The sun was nearly set now, and still he had not seen his younger son at all today. The aging wizard sighed softly to himself and absentmindedly tousled a bit of snow with his boots as he thought. It wasn't that he was fearful of finding something horrible if he went to go check on the boy—he knew even without asking that Cerberus had surely seen Yue today. As the concept echoed in his mind, Clow found himself involuntarily looking out toward the southern skies over the manor, where his little lion had vanished perhaps an hour or so ago. Elsewise, the small cub would surely be a wreck with concern by now. Not to mention, a tiny voice at the back of his mind whispered, he was quite certain that if one of his two wards were ever to be…to be _killed—_

Well, it sufficed to say, that he was sure he personally would somehow know of it. Somehow, he would be gravely certain the instant it happened… he simply would _know_.

The tall, dark sorcerer didn't have long to ponder these thoughts, however, for that very moment, something _did_ strike his magical senses—though it was far from the spear point of death.

"Yue!" He gasped with genuine surprise as the young blond boy came dashing up the snow-covered walkway, his long white hair flying freely all the way. "Yue, what on earth—?"

Clow could do little more than gape with shock and astonishment as his youngest child came to, a halt immediately in front of him, panting and gripping his side for the distance he had just run. "I had… to find you." He gasped, his thick breath fogging the air. Truth be told, the boy looked to be in no fit state to be on his feet. As Clow gazed, dumbfounded at him, it was to see a weak, exhausted looking sorcerer where a strong, vital one was usually. Yue's skin all over appeared to be clammy, and almost as pale as his hair—or the snow around them. His legs shook slightly as he stood there, only lightly dressed against the cold, his fair violet eyes focused on the man before him "I figured it out." He whispered, still breathing somewhat hard, "I know now how to answer your question…. About why I did the things I did… the night of the storm."

Silently, wordlessly, he reached out, and gently took hold of Clow's frozen staff, still lying limply in the wizard's right hand. Slowly, he turned it towards himself, not taking his eyes off Clow's shocked, cobalt pair. "You can have your explanation… and save me from this inner turmoil. Take your cards; seal what you find…" closing his eyes, he took both his hands, and softly clasped the top point of the great, bronze to his breastbone, over the place where Clow knew his heart must be, "…here." He finished quietly, his voice unreadable. Moments ticked by, and Clow merely stood there in shock, his hands weakly holding his staff. Somewhere between his body and his senses, the wizard thought wildly, his brain seemed to have stopped working. Instead, there was a horribly familiar sensation falling over him: the sense of being somewhat drunk, his stomach clenching, a strange beast within him beginning to purr at the thought of the young man that stood before him… under his power, at his mercy. His pulse began to race, and many things inside him were tightening horribly as, without fully knowing what he was doing, Clow reached down into the front pocket of his robes, where he always kept spare tarot cards—just in case. Not taking his eyes off Yue, he tossed one blindly into the air above their heads. At first, however, he said nothing, cast no incantations. Instead, he looked straight into Yue's pale eyes, wild, burning, but nonetheless focused with a cool confidence in what he was doing. Without thinking, before he could change his mind, he had to do it now, or miss the opportunity forever.

The noise echoed throughout the grounds "SEAL!"

Many things happened at once. Yue's eyes were locked, firmly on his master's. Then, a moment later, he was gone; the both of them were gone, buried completely in a blaze of explosive light. It wasn't the dark, shadowy power which Clow was used to seeing spring from his staff, however, which burst around them, all through the glade, however. Instead, it was a bright, violet light, fractured by beams of the purest white. It was such a light show, he couldn't imagine what it must look like from a distance, shining off the snow.

Cerberus Reed _could_ imagine what it looked like in the distance, oddly enough, for he was circling lowly above the manor and grounds when the vast, colorful explosion occurred. He felt it long before he saw it, for as the energies erupted into the evening air, he found himself bombarded suddenly by a shockwave of magic force as the glow expanded on his front lawn. He couldn't have known what was happening, but the force of the magic power welling out of the scene as well as the familiar purple energy color told him everything he needed to know. Turning in midair, he immediately flew at his fastest speed towards where he knew Clow was locking magic with his brother. Damnit, the _one time_ he thought for sure he didn't have to worry about Yue and Clow!

A second after it had started, the light began to gather, in a flower-like formation, and suck itself singularly into the floating card which Clow had launched into the heavens above. The next second, it had all disappeared within the thick paper with a final blast of gusty wind. Then, as quickly as it had come, the light vanished. The card hovering just above the older sorcerer had sealed itself, but he didn't have the chance to worry himself about that at all, for that same moment, before he could even realize it was happening, Yue's eyes had fallen closed, and he collapsed to the ground in a heap. Without even the chance to react, another surprise came leaping in on the magician Clow Reed as Cerberus landed roughly in a drift just beside him, sending up a slight spray. "Yue!" he shouted, as he skidded into the glade, his eyes alight with apparent worry. "Is he alright?" He asked tearfully of Clow, snapping the older man back to reality. His mind at last working properly again, Clow immediately knelt down beside the unconscious boy and lifted him into his arms. For once, Cerberus made no objection: his concern for his brother's safety seemed to have blinded him from his distrust of their master.

"Yes," He whispered certainly a moment later as he carefully surveyed his young ward, "He's only fainted. I think Yue's recent unwellness has had little to do with his conflicted mind." (Cerberus decided not to bother right now with questioning whether or not 'unwellness' was actually a word.) Gently, he ungloved one of his hands, and touched the back of it softly to Yue's forehead. "He has a fever," he muttered, his voice seeming to fall sadly as he did so, "I doubt if 'inner turmoil' could cause that." He needn't have said anymore, for, by the time he had looked up again, Cerberus had already turned his back to his elder, their temporary moment of truce apparently forgotten, and was leading the way back to the manor. Clow, however paused for a moment. His new card, the one he had sealed directly out of the depths of his son's heart, was floating somewhere around his right shoulder. He reached out and lightly took it in hand. What he saw on its face did indeed, as Yue had said, tell all. Printed on the paper was the emblem of a wing-like, metallic armor—'The Shield' bore the emblem above and below. _The Shield_, a defensive implement. Yue was indeed protective. Was he perhaps so concerned with his need to protect others that he would have run out into the storm as he did, is that what Yue had meant to reveal by convincing Clow to rip this card from within him? Around the feathery entity, however, there was one other feature which intrigued the magician. Wiping off his glasses to be absolutely sure, he peered through them at the newly-formed card. All around the picture of the shield, surrounding it and holding it down were a vast array of steely chains. The need to be restrained—something potentially so wild that it would need to be chained down? What of Yue's apparent paternal instincts, however, could require such drastic measures—metaphorical or not. As he looked down at the young boy slumbering in his arms, however, he understood. Yue was a compassionate child, even if he didn't fully understand that component of himself. But the lengths it sometimes drove him to—he came out here in the cold, to do something drastic for his 'father' though he had clearly not been feeling well all day. Perhaps it was possible… that very instinct to make everything right again could one day drive him to danger if he were not restrained. He did understand now, at least a little.

"Thank you, Yue." He whispered, both to himself as well as his sleeping son. Before he turned back to the manor, however, there was one more thing on his mind. Cerberus stood by the doorway in the distance like a bright orange beacon amongst the whiteness of the snow, but in his wake, he had left a fine trail of footprints in the slush. To these, he touched his staff once more and, laughing, muttered "seal." Wordlessly, he lifted the card from the ground as it formed, read the title, and then, chuckling to himself more heartily now, pocketed it as he started back towards the manor himself. The card had been 'The Sword'. Sword indeed, Cerberus certainly seemed to have taken the offensive against him.

… and, knowing what was inside, Dr. Benjamin Hawkins followed his younger self over the threshold.

Inside his dream, back on the night of January the 23rd, the good doctor stepped easily over the threshold of the mysterious doorway (which he had passed now so many times)buried deep within Reed manor. It closed with a bang as he pushed it closed behind him. On the real night these dreams depicted—back in the early morning of July the 1st, 1681, he could vaguely recall a terrified young physician who had stared at that door for a long time, too frightened to turn around and gaze upon the horror that must lie on the bed behind him—! But he was not that man anymore.

Lightly, with an air of absolute ease, Hawkins turned swiftly round tonight: he had nothing to fear of this place any longer, he knew full well what lay resting in this room with him—he had learned its secrets. It terrorized him no more.

Just to his right, slumbering softly beneath a thick, brown blanket, lay a young boy, only just pubescent, was lying serenely. Long streamers of sparkling silvery hair were scattered all about him, as if he were lying not on an old bed in a musty manor-house, but a gleaming river of pale, crystalline waters. Plastered against the walls, behind the child's back, immense feathery wings extended up to about half way to the ceiling. Yes, Benjamin Hawkins knew this scene well.

The young boy's name was Yue Reed, and the good doctor was certain somewhere deep in his bones that they had not yet seen the last of each other. He knew what he would do here, what his mission was. His poor son was unwell, he needed a doctor to take care of him. He knew that he would stare in awe for perhaps 3 or 4 seconds. He knew that he would take a surgeon's experienced fingers and feel all up and down his mysterious patient: he would find soft tissues where there were meant to be soft, solid where there were meant to be solid, 24 ribs all in perfect alignment. He knew he would listen to his the sounds pf his breath, first on the right, then on the left, and then with a trained ear, auscultate beneath his breastbone where a he would find a human heartbeat fluttering in time.

Yes, Benjamin Hawkins knew everything about this boy and about this night, and that was why he could never be afraid of it again. For he had seen now the anatomy of the angels… and he found it, in the end, indistinguishable from his own. Yue Reed was Icarus with a bit more intelligent wing structure, he was a fallen angel, stuck now in a state of human gracelessness. In short, he was, by a medical standpoint, entirely human, and forever the fascination of a young an eager doctor who felt he had discovered the next wonder of the world (scientifically speaking, of course).

But tonight, he would not get to finish his dream. His younger self, strutting about Reed manor in the summer of 81 would have to save his diagnosing for another night. For, just that moment, a group of people were gathering outside the little shack over which hung the sign "Benjamin J. Hawkins; physician, surgeon, apothecary". They were pounding on the doctor's door, shouting hurried cries for help, assistance. Hawkins woke with a start at all the noise, his dream abruptly cut off and forgotten. With the greatest haste, he quickly through a shirt on over his broad shoulders, and rushed out into the night, the screaming crowd directing him with their shouts and cries deep into the village. The night was January the 23rd, 1681, it was the night before Clow Reed would seal the Shield and the Sword, and a terrible epidemic of ague had just hit the little town of Lightwater. No less than eight houses had been infected by the time the pandemic had moved on, including (though few ever knew of it) the secretive manor that stood somewhere beyond the forests, up on a nearby hill. By the time it had passed, three had died—primarily of the older population. Yue Reed, as thankfully regarded by his father and brother, recovered within three days, and nothing more was said of the incident.

Many decades later, the disease that had struck the village on that cold January night, the horrible diagnosis of ague which would rule over much of England for the next few centuries, would be called by a variety of names and be attributed to an equal menagerie of microbes. But of all these futuristic diagnoses, there were two that would stand out from the crowd: acute fever…

…and malaria.

* * *

_AN: Hi everyone, sorry for the long chapter-I actually triedto cut it short at the end-but I really didn't want to break this one up. I also think I'll now always be aiming for chapter lengths of about 10,000 - 15,000 words, so this one won't seem **that much** longer. Please review!_


	14. Through a Glass, Darkly

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

Reed manor lay dark and cold.

The empty hallways—so full of life and livelihood during the day—stood now like silent sentinels. The moon hung high in the sky just outside their protected gates, and its pale light cascaded eerily through the high, arched windows. An entire labyrinth of senseless, winding pathways was bathed in bluish monochromacy and the darkest shadows of the night.

Clow Reed smiled to himself, a wicked and calmly-sinister smirk playing about his lips. He loved it this way: the manor at night. He loved the tomb-like quiet and colorless scene that graced these halls only in the latest hours of the day. Rest assured, he was a man of character, a man of upbringing; he appreciated the frivolities of living in this house. The sorcerer could not deny that he had and was and would be brought great joy by the sounds of Cerberus's frolicking feet in the morning. He would concede that he could find no wonder in his life more breathtaking than the sight of the early morning sun glimmering upon Yue's pale hair. Yes, Clow Reed did not hate the day: the daytime brought him pleasures and joys;

But he loved the night. The darkness.

It was one particular hallway in the west wing in which the sorcerer was standing now, surveying the ghostly, glaucous scene. In the morning and the afternoon these passageways would be filled with energy and vitality. The sunlight would be streaming through the windows and his little lion would be galloping across the house like a wild stallion. The sounds of voices—quite probably the sounds of good-natured arguing between his two boys—and livelihood would fill their empty, stone depths by day. But tonight—on these dark and secluded eves not a thing stirred within the deep, murky heart of the manor. He alone was its sole and solitary inhabitant—its sole ruler! The only person tonight who could hear the creaks and groans of his complaining home! The only one who could decide single-handedly whether or not to go to its aid or simply stand by and watch the night suffer in solitude. Yes, yes. He, Clow Reed, alone, at this hour, had the power to be the king of his castle: and he could choose to be a merciful and empathetic lord, or, just as easily an unconcerned one. He had dominion. He was its _master_!

The sorcerer stood glamorously this eve, his new, elegant satin cloak draping lazily about his shoulders. He was leaning with a dominating casualness against one of the stone sentinels which in the day would become the manor's warm and cheerful walls. But though his slumped body and careless expression gave every impression of apathy, his glimmering cloak did not touch the ground. On contrary, it dangled off the magician's broad, reclining form in perfect order—so that its sophisticated, shimmering veneer need not be tainted by the dirt of the floor. Its silver chains sparkled the most brilliant azure in the moonlight. Clow was smartly dressed tonight beneath his regal mantle—far more debonair than he ever had let himself appear during the day (when his only audience was his sons and those fools down in the village), and the long inky hair which Yue often referred to as 'wild' and 'messy' was slicked neatly back and gleaming sinisterly in the near-dark.

He felt powerful: domineering!

The west wing was often Clow's sanctuary. For some reason or another, Yue and Cerberus rarely frequented it. (In fact, he supposed he hadn't seen them on his turf for any long duration since that night so long ago when he had brought them there himself after the blizzard.) It was as if they could sense his dominance—his mastery of this place, and dared not set foot on it lightly. The fact reminded him of his strength—it made him feel prevailing. But he had to admit still: he did wish that Yue would visit him from time to time in this place.

How many nights had he stood here, watching masterfully over his castle, and longed—_fantasized_—that he might meet Yue, his lunar child, like this: in the darkness? Often he watched the moonbeams trailing in, and marveled appreciatively at the beauty of their glow. Many a time he almost believed that he saw the young boy, just visible through the varying rays of light and shadow…

… an outline in the gloom—an elaborately arranged body leaning on the windows—cascades of long, flowing hair pouring around him like a waterfall…

Oh how it filled him with mysterious longing, this specter! Even victorious and vivacious as he presumed to be these nights, he felt parts of him grow weak at the idea of its presence. Sometimes his mind went wild! His imagination gripped his senses, and he could just see that image—that _beautiful_, _enticing_ image—! And he would run to him—like a knight to his holy grail—he should pounce like a predator upon his desired prey_—_! He _would_!

But even in fantasies, Yue remained ever illusive. The specter was never real. It would vanish like smoke, and leave the hunter hungrier for the baiting! He couldn't understand it! Sometimes, he couldn't understand it at all—it made him want to scream! Clow Reed, master magician, brilliant theologian, the only man on this earth that could have conceived what he had about the elements—the only man who could ever have brought the spirits of the moon and sun—!

And yet he was not that boy's master.

_**Somehow**_ he was not.

Yue was far different than Cerberus: their very celestial signs declared it! Cerberus was forceful and blunt where Yue was silent and compliant; Cerberus was domineering where his brother was meek. Submissive. Shouldn't he be submissive? Humble, docile, lowly, cowed? Or like his lunar sign: passive, dependent? Yue was indignant and paternal in his own right, but he longed to follow another—it was in his very nature: how could he ever _live_ without another, as the moon could never shine? His metabolism could never sustain itself without his master as its crutch! And yet he could never reach that child—_he_, Clow Reed! Even in his daydreams he couldn't rush to the figure in the moonlight! He couldn't grasp him like he wanted and pin him to the wall! He couldn't feel the tiny body strain weakly against him—couldn't _feel_ his own masculine dominion over such a helpless creature! No! He could reach his phantom no more than he could draw the flesh and blood version here to this place at night.

Strange things overtook him sometimes where Yue was concerned. Strange urges—flashes of things he could not quite comprehend. He felt like a predator—a beast! And Yue was his prey. He wanted to dominate that boy—as he should, _as he should_! He wanted to _make_ him into the submissive creature he should have been by nature! How he longed sometimes to grasp that boy by the shoulders and throttle him to the floor below. How he ached to hold his squirming body to the rock, and feel the frightened heart beat against him—see those pale violet eyes grow wide as they realized their _true_ master! _He_ must be their lord! He _must_ be their master—he, who gave the both of them life and flesh and blood! WHY could Yue allude him so! WHY was he the one chasing his subordinate and not dominating all of his being! WHY?

Clow couldn't understand it. Why such thoughts came to him… and why all of them should be true.

And so he sighed and leaned against his wall—the one thing he _could_ have dominance over, no matter what. He watched the moonlight as it danced in through the high, arched windows, and whispered softly to himself of his own greatness.

'_For we know in part, and so we prophesy in part…_

_At present, we see the world through a glass, darkly….'_

These thoughts were not Clow's, but they did flow through the mind of another lost soul that night: another of Lightwater who found himself restless and unable to sleep. If only Clow could have known these such words, he could perhaps have discovered early on how greatly they related to him—perhaps if he had, there would have been no tragedy to this tale at all, but then again, perhaps it would also not have come to its happy ending. It would be a long time before Clow could realize that he could only see in part, let alone prophesy in part. And though his illusion of absolute grandeur would accordingly fade from him after being knocked from his pedestal, one looking back in retrospect could question whether he ever truly understood the other words of that wise phrase:

That we see the world as through a glass, darkly.

**Chapter 7, Through a Glass Darkly**

Dawn rose quietly over Lightwater village.

Normally there would be no one up to whiteness it—the hour was now quite early these days as the morning was breaking. Winter and spring had come and gone so quickly they had almost felt like a dream. Clow had spent much of his time locked away in the west wing, and Cerberus Reed (who was now quite remarkably awake despite the earliness) hadn't even felt the need to butt heads with him for quite some time. For the most part, life in the manor was peaceful—uneventful, but peaceful all the same. Cerberus had full run of the land once more. In a way, it was as if the rest of 1682 had not happened at all, and he would wake up one morning to still find it was the past summer, and he and his brother would be going at it like warlords. Actually, sometimes it was that very thought which _terrified_ him, the thought of going back to the way things had been before: of he and Yue being literally at each other's throats as they had all those many moons ago (no pun intended). Could it all possibly be some fantastic dream, he wondered to himself. Could it be that all they had been through together those past seasons was simply an idealistic fantasy? Sometimes it felt like it must be—like the growing camaraderie between himself and his sibling right now was more believable as an illusion than reality. How far they must have come to get here to this point, in the summer of '82…

But every morning he awoke to the rising sun. He watched the fat orange disk climb its way into the sky through his bedroom window. He watched the heavens blush brilliant pink at their new company, and the outline of trees beneath change slowly to green as the shadows amongst them receded. He had a good enough view from his own bed, but some days, when he was feeling particularly adventurous, he would tiptoe across the way and watch from his brother's (which was immediately beneath the panes). Today he had felt brave, and was, at that moment, watching the morning sun with front paws clasped against the window frame and the back stretched out dangerously close to Yue's braided hair.

In days past, Cerberus might have tried to take advantage of a situation such as this: his brother slumbering innocently away at his feet. Perhaps, a year or so ago when they were still fighting, he might have 'accidently' yanked at the boy's plait as he dismounted to the floor. Or maybe he would have swatted him with his swinging tail rather than let it lay at rest (as it did now). For that matter, maybe he'd have even got more creative! Now, however, he had learned to be a _bit_ kinder—at least he wasn't usually one to outright antagonize anymore! Of course, that wasn't to say the little lion wasn't still a firm believer in sibling rivalry (he still stood by what he'd said the summer before: tormenting your siblings is part of the job description)! It still had its uses—curing boredom for one—making sure life didn't get _too _mushy-gushy around here. Hell, sometimes Cerberus wondered what kind of grief Yue would give him if he ever woke up during one of these early encounters and discovered a rather immediate lion straddled over him. As the thought crossed his mind, Cerberus was gripped by images of Yue Reed slowly dismembering him and using all the chopped-up bits as target practice—he would be in hundreds of impaled pieces before Clow was even awake! But the young cub shook off the impulse and stood his ground: the passage of time had taught him to temper his flamboyant nature and occasionally contemplate his actions. Flinging himself about might be enough commotion to cause his unpleasant fantasy to come true—and even without looking, he could tell by the slow and deep pace of his brother's breathing that the boy was indeed asleep. For now, while he watched the sunrise, Cerberus felt a slightly wiser man, and not one in the mood for childish games—at least not until later in the day.

Yes, many things had changed since last summer.

As he contemplated these things, the lion cub did indeed tear his eyes away from the dawning sky. Golden eyes glanced down at his front paws, his feet, his tufted tail. He too had changed over this short span of time—and not just in the philosophical, 'self-identity' sort of way that Yue or Clow would be going on about. Physically he had changed as well as mentally. His paws, while still overlarge, had become less obviously disproportionate, and the bulk of his body (which Yue usually referred to as a ball of fluff) had grown longer and leaner—his tail was looking less and less out-of-place by the day! He hadn't really thought about his wings, but perhaps they were a bit wider now too—and he could swear his face looked longer and slimmer as well.

On one occasion in the library (during one of the rare times when Cerberus had felt brave enough to enter the place,) he had bothered Yue into books about lions. While this had gotten him a lot of dirty looks and death threats for the persisting disruption of the younger boy's studies, it had _also_ landed him with a pile of leather-bounds and a bunch of pretty pictures. He liked to think that perhaps he was growing up a bit—kind of like the great beasts of these old field journals (although there was this business about something called a 'mane' which he grudgingly felt he was still generally lacking). Yes! He was king of his castle—head of his pride! But, of course, a fabulous monarch could hardly rule alone—that's how it worked in prides, the pretty books said so! Cerberus had thought long and hard on this metaphor for his life (he had heard that sophisticated people used metaphors—he had had to ask Yue what a metaphor _was_, mind). Yue, he had decided, was allowed to be the beta male to his awe-inspiring alpha!

Clow was the omega.

The sun was growing wider in the sky now, and the little lion wondered vaguely to himself how much time had passed since he had first wandered up here, nestled amongst these sheets and long, flowing hair. Yue stirred slightly in his sleep, and drew his brother's attention at once. He didn't awaken, but all the same, the boy clenched himself more tightly through his slumber and his breath shuddered—though obviously deeply comatose, his brow had become furrowed slightly with anxiety.

Lightly, Cerberus leapt down from the window. With the precision and grace of a much lighter feline, he tiptoed around the distressing teenager and nestled himself up against Yue's chest. At this close proximity, the worried lion could feel the minute tremors of his sibling's trembling (and knew, as it was well into June, that it had nothing to do with cold). Cerberus sighed; Yue had been having a lot of nightmares lately. Thankfully, none of them seemed to be prophetic, at least as far as he could tell (Yue was supposedly without that power to forecast), but that certainly didn't make him feel any better for his little brother—or any less angry at Clow.

Five or six months had passed since Clow had sealed his most recent two cards, The Shield and The Sword. He couldn't say things had gone back to normal exactly, but all the same, it was hard to pinpoint precisely what all had changed _because_ of January's strange events. Cerberus scowled elaborately in the direction of his 'father's end of the house. Clow…the illusive villain to his valiant superhero! He couldn't really say he _disliked_ the man—hell, he _loved_ fool, like any good family should—but there was something about his actions as of late that really rubbed his oldest son the wrong way: **especially** where Yue was concerned. Although, the disgruntled cub had to admit to himself, he didn't know _exactly_ what had transpired between his two housemates the night Shield was sealed, but he _was_ sure that there was something mildly sinister about the whole affair. His brother hadn't seemed well that entire day, and Cerberus suspected that it had nothing to do with his 'mental anguish' or 'conflicting energies' or any of that crap he had overheard that pair talking about in the aftermath. For one thing, Yue's recovery had been temporary after Shield was put into card form—he had collapsed promptly afterward, and had been in terribly ill health for at least a few _days_ afterward. Clow had actually said he'd felt feverish… surely that couldn't be magical? At any rate, Yue hadn't been quite normal since—these nightmares, for instance! That idiot Clow could say whatever he wanted about Shield being the 'manifestation' of 'something Yue was trying to reveal about his personality' 'just like Sword' was the 'incarnation' of his and Cerberus' private conflict, but he could scarcely fool _this_ mature, and grown-up lion! Whatever the circumstances, the fact remained that Shield had been ripped from his brother's innermost heart—however gently, consensual, and well-intentioned the actual extrication may have been. Yue showed no physical signs of having been harmed by the procedure (spare for his brief spell of unconsciousness immediately afterward, of course), but all the same, Cerberus couldn't help but sense something unnatural and bruised about the sorcerer's aura now. Like these nightmares he was having—it was as if there was a raw and bleeding wound upon his sibling's soul which, though healing, was still leaking its infected puss all through his vitalities. Would he have this open wound in his heart forever, the lion wondered concernedly. Was he doomed to be eternally barraged by infecting energies?

Cerberus didn't have much time to dwell on these angry and distressing things, however. He settled himself lightly against his brother's curled and quivering frame and licked him affectionately on the cheek. The instant he made contact, Yue's entire body relaxed instantaneously—his touch could have been a sedative for its all-encompassing effect! The boy's frantic breaths halted for a moment mid-struggle, and started again with the slow and peaceful breathing of deep slumber. Cerberus felt his anger and frustration leave him as if it had been an over-filled balloon that had finally popped. Yue seemed to unconsciously comprehend the source of his relief (though profoundly asleep) for he shifted in his bed and hugged the cub to his breast.

For a moment, Cerberus hesitated—after all, wasn't he supposed to be the 'lordly lion' here? The king of his castle? The mature and independent grown-up man? But then his physical senses overwhelmed him. The little cub let his self-righteous façade fall. Curling up like a cuddled kitten, he gratefully gave in to his own soothing comfort within the younger boy's embrace. At first touch, Yue's flesh was pale and cool—not too far off from his sarcastic demeanor—but Cerberus had learned now that warm blood ran beneath his brother's skin. Like the contact of a foreign metal first feels cold to the body, he understood that if he snuggled himself closely, the warmth that Yue buried in his core would flood out into his own frigid fur. He didn't think these things to himself in so many words, but he knew them to be true. And so the _matured lord_ gave in to his infantile impulses. Coiled into a tight, fuzzy ball, he clung to his companion's breast like a newborn to his mother. It was something he would never have done many months ago, back when the young magician beside him had seemed untouchable, let alone comforting, paternal—a real being of flesh and blood which one could relate to. Yet cuddle the little kitten did. Cerberus purred softly with contentment as he lay there, comforted and coddled. Listening to the slow, steady tone of Yue's heartbeat, he drifted back off to sleep.

He could rule the manor later—when morning had _really_ set in.

…

Clow Reed had not stayed up all night, and in fact woke up later that very morning feeling like an entirely different man than the creature which had stalked his house at night (and having a curiously nagging headache).

The sun Cerberus had been steadily watching hours earlier had fully risen now. It was flooding through the vast, paned windows of the small downstairs dining hall where Clow was seated, enjoying his morning over a warm cup of tea. He had changed his clothing from the previous night—in place of his elaborate cloak, he now wore no more than a humble cotton shirt and a very worn-out brown vest. His hair was loose and messy again, there was a newly-patched hole in his trousers, and his glasses had on them a tremendous smudge which the wizard had apparently not yet noticed.

In fact, Clow didn't seem to be noticing a lot of things. Though he sat easily and elegantly within his carved wooden chair at the table, his mind seemed to be elsewhere than the beauty of the moment. The sun outside was warm and inviting, and it was spilling carelessly through the great paned window at the magician's side like it were flowing directly from Aquarius's water vase. The light ignited the reflectiveness of Clow's glasses (smudge and all), and, for a moment, made the view of his eyes go completely opaque. His cup of tea was still steaming lightly as if its master had only just poured it from the stove, and beside it laid a rather old and extremely dog-eared book: both of which were currently hovering untouched upon the dining table. The magician himself was leaning back in his seat, legs stretched as far as they would go beneath one of the table legs, and he seemed to be bemusedly watching something out the window. Whatever he was staring at seemed to make him happy, for the lounging wizard wore a lazy smile plastered across his face. It was indeed, he thought to himself, a lovely day.

There was one other thing, however (besides whatever was fascinating him in the outside world) that he was slowly getting more and more consciously aware of: a strange warming sensation which had little to do with the sunlight. The sensation was radiating into him via his breast pocket, and while not altogether uncomfortable, was rapidly getting to the point that not even for the sake of his lovely view could Clow ignore it any longer. Sighing whimsically to no one in particular, the sorcerer sat up in his chair and rested his hands back on the dining table once more. "Honestly, you lot," he chuckled good-naturedly, reaching into his shirt as he did so, "You're getting as bad as Cerberus!

"Can't I get a moment's peace?" he asked, still smiling, and drew forth a relatively small pile of what looked like some rather usual tarot cards. He held the deck aloft for a moment and surveyed them in the streaming sunbeams. The cards shimmered in the morning light, and an onlooker might have noted that the sheer intensity of the surrounding rays almost made them look as if some were glowing in the luminance. Clow, however, was not such a fool—he knew that his cards didn't _look_ like they were glowing, some of them _were_ glowing. The magician's smile widened slightly for a moment, and he let his elbows rest easily on the hard wood before him while he shuffled through his mismatched deck, and lay out each of its members in a neat row across the shiny oak surface. He dealt out the glowing cards first in the order that he found them: The Shield, The Dark, The Watery, The Windy, The Shadow, and The Wood. He gave a good, long gaze to each of the lunar cards as he set them in front of him and watched as, one by one, their warm and persistent glow began to lessen. Next, he moved on to the silent solar cards, and set them gently beside their brethren. The Light, The Fiery, The Glow, The Earthy, The Sword, and The Erase. Twelve cards, he thought to himself contently as he admired his work (which nearly ran to both edges of the circular table), in this one year or so he had sealed _twelve_ cards. How many more, the wizard wondered lucidly as he gently fingered one of the nearest elements. How many more of these precious little spirits would he encounter and seal? Already he had a dozen, and yet he felt his two sons had much more yet to give him.

In all honesty, it was amazing how much Clow's perception of his 'elemental' cards had changed since he first began sealing them. The first five cards, as he recalled—the true elements—had been, according to his original plans, the only articles he had intended to make. Initially, the cards which had now become his passive quest had begun as nothing more than catalysts to help him bring Cerberus and Yue into life. To be fair, he had of course thought of the ways they would be useful in magic (most magicians called upon the spirits or gods of the elements, after all, to grant them power in their spells—having those actual spirits in one's hand must surely make them better weapons: tools for doing one's sorcery), but in all honesty, their creation had been completely secondary. Now he loved creating these tiny entities, for each was a tiny adventure into the minds and hearts of his housemates. This too had changed from the beginning (roughly a year ago, Clow imagined) where his first cards had been more elemental in their origins than psychological. The first cards, for instance, had been purely logical: they were the elements attributed with the souls of the sun and moon that he had sought to incarnate; Light and Dark too were a logical extension, although, admittedly, the credit for their discovery and accidental creation went wholly to Cerberus and Yue. Even his first unanticipated card had been based upon external factors: The Glow he had sealed moments after saving Yue, and only then because the new dawn had seemed significant at the time (and, again, much of that perception was due to Cerberus' irrational fear of the color purple). Erase had been his turning point. That card he had sealed away not because he had perceived it in the surrounding environment, but because of something Cerberus had done—and done in pure determination. Shadow, likewise had been born not because Clow had calculated it to be an essential 'element', but rather because it had been a hidden feature in Yue's life: a boy beneath whose sign that spirit dwelled. And as for Shield…

As Clow turned his attention to his last card, he paused, confusedly. All this while whilst he had been reminiscing about his patchwork deck, the sorcerer had been lightly handling and musing over each card in turn, but now he froze in his tracks. Though all of its fellows had remained deferential and kept to the neat little row their master had placed them in, the Shield had meanwhile broken itself pointedly from the line, and was now lying (with deceiving inanimateness) several inches above the others. Clow sighed—a bit dejectedly this time; "Still, Shield?" he murmured as he lifted the card lightly in his hands, "Even after all these months?"

The comments were not out of place. Ever since the night he had first sealed The Shield into its present form, this experienced magician could have no doubt that it was very different from the others. That first night, Clow had stayed exclusively by Yue's bedside—monitoring his ague-induced fever, and keeping a finger on the tiny pulse flickering in the boy's wrist. Every evening thereafter, however, he had laid the cards (including Shield) in a neat little pile within their designated drawer of his nightstand. And every morning thereafter, he had subsequently opened the drawer to find eleven cards still resting in their neat little pile, and the Shield card lying insistently apart from them. Sometimes the spirit within it had been even bolder, and on more than one occasion, he had found it in the most distant corner of his nightstand, or across his bedroom, as if it running away from him, its master—or perhaps as if it were running _towards_ another 'master' of sorts which it had once had. Once, he had found it in Yue and Cerberus' bedroom.

That was all long ago, however, and now the Shield was usually content to sleep soundly in its drawer with the rest of the magical deck—though albeit still in its own pile. Why the card insisted on doing this, Clow hadn't the foggiest, but every time Shield separated itself, he felt a tiny prang of unease. Why was it that this card refused to lie with its brethren? Was it perhaps because it was never meant to be sealed at all? The thought made him feel queasy—ominous. If it were true that Shield was never meant to have been his, then the question now became: did he somehow harm his younger son when he ripped the card so forcefully from within him? The very prospect terrified him. Images flooded his mind of a fever-ridden Yue standing out in the snow, pointing the sharpened tip of Clow's staff directly at his breastbone. The entire situation now seemed so reckless! He'd had no idea what kind of effects that might have had on Yue, to rip out such a predominant part of his nature. He had fainted afterwards! If he had caused any harm to his son's body! In such a vital area! To say nothing of his _soul_!

But thus far, it appeared as if the young mage had sustained no real lasting damage from the ordeal—thank the divine (in whatever forms it or they may exist)! Mercifully, it seemed that only Yue's _metaphysical_ heart had been wounded by the extrication. This worked all the better for Clow, for he secretly was developing a special favoritism for the Shield. The Shield was unlike the others: though each of the cards felt warm and welcoming to the touch, the Shield pulsed with a life all its own—and he meant that quite literally. Even now as he was holding it lightly in his fingers, Clow could just perceive the throbbing waves of energy and sensation which were radiating from within the thin paper. It was a peculiar sensation. This was why he now carried the cards with him—and Shield on top—in his breast pocket. Once he had even gone to bed with this one particular card resting in that pocket, only a layer of cotton away from his skin, and lay there taking in its strange impulses. It was as if inside the card a tiny heart was beating, only inches of sinew from Clow's own. The sorcerer had grown accustomed to laying it across his chest and feeling its rhythmic pulse throbbing outside of him, quickening and slowing in a rhythmic pace of totally independent creation. It was a particularly bizarre sensation (feeling as if one had a second heart, constantly pounding offbeat from the one twitching within his ribs), and yet Clow found it strangely exciting—arousing. Perhaps it was because he had a likely suspicion just whose blood it was beating in time with?

The invigorated sorcerer had no more time to dwell on these such thoughts, however, for that very moment, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps on the nearby grand staircase. Smiling secretly to himself, Clow gathered together all of his cards, and replaced them—with Shield closest to him—back into his breast pocket. Ensuring that they were safely tucked away, he preoccupied himself once more with his book and still-lukewarm tea; he did not go back to his long look out the neighboring window. Clow Reed knew exactly who it was coming down his stairs—and he certainly knew that person wouldn't think nearly as highly as Clow did about his admiring the 'scenery'.

"Breakfast is on the stove, Cerberus." He called once he had gotten himself situated, and waited patiently for his unknowing company to join him.

…

The sunlight from downstairs was flooding in through the upstairs windows too.

As the distant, burning orb above grew higher and higher in the sky, the arched, north-facing windows of the east wing's main hall were lit positively aglow with soft yellow light. It fell gracefully upon a wooden door at the far end of the corridor, behind which lay a very particular bedroom, and behind which someone was still blissfully sleeping.

Streaming rays cast the room alight. They cascaded through a single paned window, and cast the very air into a warm, comforting glow. Every corner of the small rectangular space was cast fully ablaze in the gleam of the summer sun, from the pristine chocolate sheets which fell immediately beneath the window sill, to the lumpy, faded set which lay strewn across the opposite bed. It cast into shining brilliance the gold-etched covers of carefully stacked books and the gleaming surface of a silver hairbrush which lay beside them on a nearby bedside table.

Cerberus Reed was ridiculously happy. He loved the summertime, frankly—and this day in particular—but, in general, he just loved the summer. The blankets which surrounded him were cozy and pleasant, and tucked lovingly around his sides. He felt like a little sausage being slowly roasted over a fire—and in Cerberus' opinion: that was a very good thing indeed (not just because it made for good eating, either!). Why was it he got up so early every day if he could stay so nice and cozy like this? Perhaps his brother had the right idea after all by sleeping half the day! He felt groggy and punch-drunk, and was seriously tempted to roll over and doze on for another hour or so—it was a very enticing idea. All the same, though, loving the summer meant that one also had to love, well, being out _in_ the summer weather. Besides: this was a remarkable day! He, the lordly master of Reed manor, could _scarcely _deprive his subjects of his presence on such an occasion! Yes, it was all for the benefit of others! How he, the king, would so love to stay here in the warm—but, alas! He simply _had_ to make the sacrifice for Yue and Clow! Why—they'd be lost without him for a day!

All this rushing through his head, Cerberus drug himself into consciousness, and rolled himself into a sitting position all in one magnificent, stylized sweep. He yawned pointedly, and stretched out his back in a highly drawn-out and luxurious way (as felines are so prone to). Yes, he thought as he surveyed his 'kingdom' of surrounding bed and sun and dust, he was indeed a wonderful person. It was amazing how much more mighty he felt here, sitting high above his servant ground. This tall bed may well have been his long-deserved throne, and the sunlight streaming in from the window behind him might as well have been—

Wait a minute…

Cerberus' act was instantly shattered before it had even reached full-swing by the weight of a startling realization: he slept in the bed _**opposite**_ the window.

In a wondrous imitation of a morning exactly three hundred and fifty-five days prior, the little lion launched himself into the air in a panicked frenzy. Paws were sent flying. Sheets were cast away. The entire cub writhed momentarily with the pain and suffering he surely must be feeling right then—the pain that his brother had surely inflicted upon him for daring to trespass on his bed!

And yet… there was no pain.

Cautiously, the trembling beast peeked open one eye, and surveyed his tangled body before him. He—he was alive! And intact! He hadn't been killed, maimed, or otherwise slaughtered! Oh dear... that must mean his brother had dropped dead sometime during the night. How sad—and on today of all days. But there simply could be no other explanation! Alas! His poor little sibling! Oh how he would mourn! Oh how he wished there could be another way! But, how else could he have been spared?

On the other hand, Cerberus reasoned as more of his mental faculties came back to him and he felt brave enough to open the other eye, if his partner in crime were dead, then why was the bed strangely vacated? And who had tucked him back in?

Coming fully to his senses (and his proper visual capabilities), the highly confused cub at last noticed something he hadn't before: a curious flat object lying directly on the pillow in front of his cowering form. Unable to contain himself (and hoping for the clue that could crack the case), he drew nearer to the strange offending item. It was a spare corner of paper which had been torn off, and upon it was written, in thin, slanting script, a rather short but composed note:

'_You get a reprieve from my wrath._

_Sleep in your own bed!'_

Then, at the very bottom, it read—in perfectly neat hand:

'_Happy birthday.'_

The message was not signed, and for a moment Cerberus could only blink stupidly at the parchment. He read the note to himself again, lingering for a moment on the last line. Then his eyes fell upon the large capital 'Y', at the page's head. The letter was very elongated, and drawn directly opposite of its usual direction. He had seen it so many times gracing the front of signatures: there could be no mistaking Yue's handwriting.

Happy as a hog in manure, Cerberus hopped out of his brother's bed (and even bothered to arrange the sheets into some sort of neatness) and promptly bounded out the door, off to meet Clow—his subject—in the kitchen. 'Happy birthday.' Indeed! The date was June the 20th, 1682—and today, he ruled!

…

Clow was still acting far too interested in his the details of the dining table when Cerberus—after a series of clambering sounds in the kitchen—decided to grace his master with his presence. At least, that as the impression the magician received as his oldest son not so much walked as _pranced_ through the door, and gracefully settled himself in the chair opposite Clow (plate of breakfast in hand all the while). Of course, his little cub was usually enthusiastic—about almost everything, and most certainly about food—but even so, his arrival this morning seemed to be filled with more than the usual amount of… grandeur. Even as he thought this, the sorcerer's small companion glanced up at him, the grin on his face both excessive and somehow smug. Blinking a few times, and raising his eyebrows quite nearly to his hair line, Clow, for the first time that morning, decided to pay his tea some attention: hell, if Cerberus's…overly-satisfied…smile was any indication, he might well need something _stronger_ than tea to get through this day.

"Hello, Clow." Cerberus chimed pointedly, grin still plastered disturbingly on his face. He took his time with every word as if there were some hidden joke going on in this discourse to which Clow was not privy. The older man hesitated before responding: it wasn't that he had anything against his son—and it wasn't as if the boy were doing anything _wrong_—but something about him simply seemed… off…today, and it made his bewildered master slightly uncomfortable. Without meaning to, he glanced quickly back towards the window behind him (though, with all four of his chair legs on the ground, he could scarcely see anything out of it ) as if wishing that he could be joined by whatever he had been watching through its panes instead. He quickly snapped his eyes back, however, and, blushing slightly, hastily responded:

"Good morning, Cerberus."

Thankfully, his eldest son seemed not to have noticed the momentary glimpse to the side (probably because his eyes were squinted into that inexorable grin, Clow thought to himself)and simply seemed pleased with himself at getting a reply. Exceedingly confused (and dealing with the sudden onslaught of a few other, unrelated emotions as well,) the magician took another steadying hit off his teacup. "You seem…energetic this morning," he stammered out as he lowered it back to its saucer, and surveyed his charge.

Cerberus had been merrily sampling his breakfast plate and looked up to smile at Clow once more, golden eyes positively glowing. "Well," he began with purposeful pride, tossing his head back somewhat narcissistically, as if to tousle some unseen mane. "I was just in awe of what a _lovely_ day it is today!" He paused for a moment after this last, savoring something secret behind his words. Then he smiled once more—less broadly, Clow noticed to his relief, but nonetheless giving every impression that there was some essential component of this joke that he was missing.

The whole incident was getting somewhat irksome, Clow thought as he momentarily surveyed his furrowed reflection in his tea. A year or so past, he might have suspected that Cerberus was up to something, acting so haughty. Hell, even six months prior, he would have taken this sudden…jovialness as a sign that Yue was bound and gagged somewhere in the house, and that he was going to have to spend the rest of the day trying to find the boy before he asphyxiated! He could remember a not-so-distant time in which Reed Manor was a battleground for the most furious sort of sibling rivalry—and when, subsequently, such excessive joy from his little lion was a sure indicator of some serious mischief. Not that long ago, he could recall these halls and rooms and stairways each being the site of an all-out war of abuse and cruelty, and he, the neutral mediator, reaped the love from both battling nations. Now… was it possible that he scarcely knew his sons? The reflection in the tiny tea cup was staring back at the wizard more darkly, more angrily. A piece of the nefarious creature who had stalked the manor by nightfall twinkled in its eyes. The beast within him was wounded and crying once more. Inside his breast pocket, he could feel the Shield card positively burning against him! But no… he had to resist it. With surprising ease, Clow made sure to keep his face carefully blank, though all the same, the thoughts—now that they had been given attention—were still buzzing about in his head: Was that the joke? Was that what was making Cerberus so merry: some secret bond his was sharing with his brother to which he, their _master_, was an outsider?

"Clow?"

The older sorcerer's head snapped up immediately in response to the voice, his trance shattered as suddenly as it had begun to creep in upon him. Clow Reed blinked stupidly a few times, and unconsciously pushed his glasses back up his nose. Cerberus was no longer smiling at him broadly, but instead had his head cocked to the side, face composed into what might either have been worry or curiosity. A slight flush crept into the magician's cheeks: had he been acting strangely? Noticing the rather large smudge on his lenses, he hastily bought himself time (and saved face) by removing them and cleaning the glass haphazardly on the arm of his tattered house coat. Replacing them somewhat roughly, he composed his face as best he could, and managed a hasty smile towards his companion.

"Sorry, Cerberus," he replied with forced merriness, "I suppose I was a bit lost in thought.

"It is quite a lovely day outside, isn't it?" he added, pretending he could see the weather through the window behind him as he gestured in its direction.

"Huh?" Cerberus responded, confusedly, "Outside?" Had he so quickly forgotten his elaborate act? Perhaps that was all the more proof that it was something lighthearted.

"The weather," Clow continued, smiling more genuinely now that he was sure there was nothing malicious going on between himself and this cub at the moment. "I've actually been watching it myself down here. It truly is a remarkably beautiful sight." (as he said this, he glanced fondly back towards the window, images of his excellent viewing session from earlier that morning flooding his consciousness) "This sunlight especially," he continued, "is particularly pleasing on the…landscape—so very brilliant today."

"Well, of _**course**_ it is!"

Now it was Clow's turn to look confused. "Cerberus…" he began slowly, but to no avail. As quickly as his son's sudden burst of anger had emerged, it seemed to have retreated. Before his companion even had a chance to question, the little lion had already settled himself back down in his seat, and was examining is toes rather glumly. What was this, then? 'Of course it is'? Of course it was what? Bright? Sunny? _Was_ there really something deeper to this strange extremeness of emotion in his child today—something he was unaware of—something he had forgotten?

Though still extremely dumbfounded, Clow struggled to find something to say—to ask—that might bring a solution to this situation. He wracked his sluggish brains for one thing that might provide some comfort—whatever he was comforting _for_!—but before he had the chance to do more than open his mouth, Cerberus cut him off:

"Hey, where's Yue?"

Immediately, Clow flushed and even darker shade of scarlet, "Wh-what!" he stuttered. The cub's face was unreadable as he raised a questioning (or was it accusing!) eye towards the older wizard opposite him. Without warning, Clow's heart began to pound far faster than Shield's. Why was he asking such a thing! Did he know—had the boy realized that he had been—and that this card was—! Was he perhaps so gleeful because he had known he'd caught his master red handed? Cerberus was so quick to criticize any time he got _near_ his other son—and not even for any reason, really! No, he had entered this pompously, so it couldn't have had anything to do with recent observations—and he hadn't done anything recently (not that it was even a crime, after all, for a 'father' to be with his child, right?)! But, all the same, could the happiness have just been a ruse to lure him into this sudden change of conversation?

"Wh-what are you talking about?" he shouted defensively.

Cerberus did something which Clow assumed was very similar to raising an eyebrow. "Uh, _Yue_," he replied flatly "You know: about five foot, skinny, sneering, pretty-boy, usually sits with us every morning?" He was looking at the other sorcerer as if the man were out of his senses.

Mentally, Clow slapped himself. Of course. He should have realized—of _course_!

"Oh…" he murmured, taking an embarrassed glance down at his tea, "Right…

"He's—err," (He took an involuntary glance over his shoulder toward the window behind) "He's out on the front lawn." Hastily, he took a massive sip of his teacup to avoid looking at Cerberus.

"'Out on the front lawn'?" he repeated, accusingly "You mean the one that looks right through that window over there?" He gestured forcefully behind Clow's back.

"Lovely day my arse! You don't care about me at all! You just—you just want to wank off watching Yue get all hot and sweaty out there! You and your fantasies!"

As Clow stared, plastered with shock at his son's new-found profanity—and his _suggestions_!—Cerberus threw himself from the table, and strode toward the door.

"C-Cerberus!" Clow screamed, his voice cracking—but his mind was completely wiped by the little lion's knock-out punch—he could think of nothing to say. So, instead, he settled for a meek: "Are-aren't you going to stay for…breakfast?"

Cerberus merely glared back at Clow's pathetic, stuttering form. "I'm not hungry!" he shouted, and without a moment ado, tore out of the room, a trail of tears in his wake.

…

Outside, it really was a lovely day—at least as lovely as the days ever became in the summertime. A clear azure sky spread for miles above the earth, and rays of glimmering sunlight spilled plentifully down from the heavens. There was a gentle breeze blowing too: it rustled the leaves of a surrounding forest, and bid nesting birds to sing softly at each other in the distance. Around the edge of the manor's glade, a pleasant shade fell from the ancient oaks. It cast a cooling shadow over the wood's edge, and was punctuated here and there by transitory flickers of light, which floated gracefully across a majestic young creature who stood in their midst.

Yue Reed was only fleetingly aware of these idealistic sensations around him: the swiftness of the wind, the beauty of the sunlight, the sweetness of the songs. He stood beneath the cover of a far grove, rooted serenely in place amongst the grass. His silver hair sparkled like wildfire in the passing patches of sun, and both his stillness and his pallor against the brilliantly green landscape made him appear as if he might have been a silent statue—a guardian deity standing sentinel over the forest. The breeze tousled his silken tresses which were hanging somewhat loosely around his neck, the boy however seemed not to take any notice. All of this young magician's senses were turned invariably inward. He heard the sounds of the rustling trees, the murmuring wildlife, but as if they were coming at him from the end of a long tunnel—or perhaps as if they were passing through the membrane of an enormous bubble surrounding him. On the other hand, some sounds appeared to be incredibly amplified. Yue's eyes were closed, and he focused hard on his breathing. He consumed his thoughts with the movement of his breath in and out of him—like the ebb and flow of the wind itself. In the murky silence that enclosed him, he listened to the slow sound of his own heartbeat, which seemed to radiate out to every part of his body and consume the surrounding space. He felt the beating of his pulse extending into the wood and fiber that lay in his hands, and imagined that these too were a part of him—one with his own flesh, surging with his own life. And the strain that would be tearing at his arms was non-existent.

Not once averting his eyes, the sorcerer felt his way along the long shaft in his right hand, running fingers across his guide feather until they reached a carved groove in the adjacent wood. Grasping at the hardened arc in his left hand, he listened to the soft clicking noise of the knock sliding onto the string, then, in one fluid swoop, both drew up his bow and pulled back the arrow against his ear. He could feel the softness of feathers against his face, and the movement of the bowstring on his expanding ribs. Holding his breath momentarily, he took one last glance at the target before him, and then all at once released both air and arrow, which whisked past him like musket fire. There was a sharp striking noise and calmly the boy lowered his arms, smirking softly as he eyed the bull's-eye shot some fifty yards ahead of him.

Yue had been coming out here to the front lawn and shooting for many moons now, ever since the snow had stopped piling up on the ground. It had been a much easier feat in the springtime, just passed, when the weather had been milder and he needn't have worried about staying out all the day. Now in mid-June, however, the days were hot and sticky. Now to get a proper day's workout in, he had to get up desperately early in order to beat the infernal heat which would soon be reaching unbearable levels. Thankfully, though, this was a rather nice day (as summer days go)—ironic though that thought was, the young blond mused to himself, recalling the calendar date. As he knocked his next arrow and prepared to clear his mind once more, he wondered vaguely if Cerberus was still sleeping in his bed. He shouldn't have thought such things, however, for no sooner had he relaxed his body and drawn his bow, than a loud and boisterous voice screeched:

"YUE!"

Many things happened at once: the small, flying lion landed roughly on the ground; Yue startled terribly, his bubble of focus completely shattered; there was an awful splintering sound as the arrow missed the target entirely—it whipped through a narrow gap in the trees, tearing apart at least two of its feathers. Cerberus roared with laughter, and flopped onto the grass, rolling back and forth with unrestrained amusement. "Man," he commented heartily, still chuckling quite hard, "I LOVE doing that to you!"

Yue said nothing, but setting down his bow and his quiver, he turned slowly and strode up to the offending creature. He loomed down at Cerberus, his expression unreadable but certainly not happy. "I'm going to have to re-fletch that." he whispered silently…deadly. Cerberus stopped rolling and blinked up at his brother.

"Huh?" he started, but he hadn't the chance to say anything more intelligent when Yue swiftly swooped down upon him, and yanked a small covert feather from the back of his right wing.

"Yipe!" the small beast yelped in response, leaping at once back to his feet. "That hurt!" he protested, pouting (and genuinely seeming to tear up, Yue noted, though he forced himself not to give in so easily to the pathetic creature). His brother disregarded this exclamation, and instead peered intently at the stolen plumage he held. He ran his fingers softly over the edges, examining them with apparent curiosity.

"You'd actually make decent fletching, Cerberus," he commented both smugly and (to Cerberus's terror) seriously. Yue smiled at him slyly, fixing the cub with a sinister glance out of the corner of his pale eyes. "I may have to come steal more of these from you in the night—while you're sleeping." This last he said as little more than a whisper: leaning over his brother's shoulder, breathing down his neck. Cerberus trembled. Yue smirked, content. That should keep the little gnat out of his bed for a week or two at least. Standing back up straight, he strode a few yards back across the lawn to where his bow and arrows were still lying on the ground. He gathered these—after a few moments' search, he even found the arrow that had gone off-target—and gracefully settled himself on a nearby boulder to re-fletch his various damaged shafts. All this while Cerberus merely sat there where he had been left, perhaps contemplating waking up one morning to find himself shamefully plucked and roasted like a chicken should he cause any more trouble (as if Cerberus could ever stop causing trouble!). After several tense seconds, however, he shook himself back into his senses and, resuming some of his earlier vigor, trotted over to where Yue was seated amongst the tree trunks.

The younger boy had already cut off the bottom of the quill and had bisected his stolen prize into two halves to be attached to his arrow shafts. The curious cub inched closer and watched intently as his companion carefully segmented out individual fletching, and shaved off the old, broken remains left upon the arrows. "Say, Yue?" he asked, still enthralled by his sibling's rhythmic and meticulous movements, "I've got a question for you."

Yue paused, looking up from his work, and glanced at his brother, bidding him to continue.

Cerberus took the green light. "Where exactly do you _normally_ get those things?" he inquired, nodding his nose toward the prepared feather slices. (He imagined that there were a lot of birds in these woods that could provide them, but Yue didn't seem the hunting type.)

For a moment, Yue said nothing. Then, silently, he set his work down on the rock beside him. Cerberus cocked his head in curiosity, but the young mage paid him no mind. Measuredly, he reached behind his neck, and carefully gathered his long, shimmering strands of hair. He laid them gently across his shoulder and leaned forward slightly. A moment later, vast, fluffy feathers and wide, muscular wings burst from the back of his shoulder blades. Unconsciously, the lion took several steps backward and he gazed with both shock and awe as his partner majestically unfolded his wide white arms. Eyes closed, Yue relished in the feeling of having his body whole once more: cumbersome and presently ineffective though his wings were, he nonetheless always felt a bit better about himself when they were released. Perhaps it was because magic was what he used to seal them away, and not some natural process of his physiology, that made him seem so…perverted to be without them. Luxuriously, the blond stretched his extensive extra appendages—in a great display of his wingspan—until the long flight ligaments at his shoulders and wrists complained for the strain. He opened his eyes slowly as he lowered his limbs back to their natural resting places at his sides. His piercing violet eyes met Cerberus's, and the young cub instantly understood that _this_ was his answer.

"Wow…" Cerberus commented softly as he inched forward, mesmerized by this sudden unfurling. He stopped himself immediately in front of Yue's left wing, and drew himself nose to nose with the overblown plumage. "You use your own?" he asked as he stared. His brother's primary flight feathers were simply enormous—longer than Cerberus himself would have been even measured nose to tail. It was difficult to believe that he could have small enough feathers to spare that might be harvested for something as thin as arrow shafts.

"Generally speaking." Yue replied casually, bending his right wing inward and carefully beginning to thumb through his own secondary coverts in search of more fletching material.

"That doesn't take long to grow back, does it?" the little cub asked, frowning back at his own protruding limbs. He shook the right one slightly as though it were still causing him discomfort from being plucked. ("This one's still throbbing!" he whined, more to himself than his sibling.)

"About a week or so regrows a small one," the younger boy responded somewhat distractedly. He then turned momentarily to meet his brother's eyes and added, with obvious sarcasm "Though I wouldn't recommend pulling out anything much larger."

"Don't mock me." Cerberus whined, still poking gloomily at his missing feather ("My wing has its own heartbeat…" he complained) "I'll still be able to fly like this, won't I?"

"Cerberus, have you ever heard of molting?" Yue retorted, raising an eyebrow as he peered back at his companion. The lion cocked his head curiously to the side, looking completely blank about this strange new topic. His eyes were wide, however, and his jaw trembled with anticipation of some horrible truth about to be unearthed to him. Yue bit his lip: sometimes he forgot how much basic information this boy lacked. Much though he would love to torment his brother just a bit more, telling him that all of his feathers were eventually going to fall out felt excessively cruel (and on his birthday no less). "It's nothing," he said at last, deciding better on it, "You'll find out.

"Anyway," he continued, hurrying to change the subject, "I wouldn't worry about one or two feathers impeding your aerodynamics." After all, he thought as he gently pulled out a few of his own plumes, covert feathers like these were more a matter of padding than function anyway. Cerberus however didn't seem satisfied.

"That's easy for you to say!" he commented as he watched his brother harvest himself, "It's not like you're really _using _yours!"

Yue froze. The cub's face fell. The words echoed about the glade.

Cerberus's expression seemed to droop even more as the thought began to sink in on him. He turned his head to his toes and kicked gloomily at the dirt. "I wish you _would_ come up and play with me in the skies," he murmured quietly. Yue averted his eyes, turning his head away shamefully and staring fixedly at the grass. His left wing gave a feeble twitch. His brother appeared not to notice him at all.

"I wish you _would_ fly with me," he continued, eyes suddenly brimming with very real tears. Yue stopped his brooding immediately, and stared dolefully at his sibling's turned back. "You could probably do it if you wanted to!" The beast insisted, voice swimming with a curious amount of emotion "You've been coming out here so long to 'train' yourself—you just need to try harder!" He was shouting now and the blond behind him couldn't fully understand why. He knew sometimes that this small creature was lonely and bored in this household where he was so starkly different from his fellow inhabitants, but surely it couldn't be bothering him this much? He was nearly crying earlier too—could it be that there was something else on his mind, something predisposing him to sadness?

"You're so lazy!" the little lion persisted, screeching shrilly. Yue winced. "You—you just need to practice more! If you would just get up and try sometime—!"

"I did try."

Yue's voice was soft and barely articulated. Cerberus halted in his tears at once, and twisted around, looking at his brother as if he might have spoken a foreign language. "Wh-what?" he stuttered.

A sudden cloud passed over the sun. A moment of shadow fell upon the manor. The young blond sorcerer was still sitting calmly amongst the tree trunks. His head was hung low, but his eyes were bright and focused, seeming to glow at Cerberus in the sudden darkness. A gust of wing rustled his hair and his face flitted in and out of view beneath his fluttering bangs. "I gave it another try earlier," he whispered softly, attempting to gesture toward the cliff side and the lake with his available left wing. He could do little more than flap it feebly in the proper direction, however, before he tensed suddenly with pain, and the limb fell limply back down.

"You're hurt!" Cerberus chimed worriedly, taking a few galloping strides towards the boy. Yue sighed—his brother had a knack for stating the obvious.

Unconsciously, the mage raised a hand to massage the back of his shoulder, "I think I just may have sprained something," he replied calmly, attempting to dismiss Cerberus' overzealous concerns. The lion in question, however, would hear nothing of it. He stared with wide, emotive eyes at his sibling's sagging wing, and followed the Yue's long, pale fingers as they gingerly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, just take your shirt off!" The cub shouted suddenly, tearing his eyes away.

Yue raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Cerberus whined back, "Don't you trust me?"

"Not hardly." Yue replied flatly, but nonetheless, after a moment's pause he reached down and began carefully undoing the string of buttons down his front.

…

The sun was much higher in the sky now, and the blissful aura of that morning had faded into the lazy glow of mid-afternoon. The air was now sticky with heat and thick with moisture; through it the once-gleaming sunbeams looked drunken and blurred. It stuck to waxen tree leaves, burnt grass, sweaty flesh, and weighed heavily on the lungs of the only two living creatures who were out on the glade at this hour.

Cerberus and Yue Reed at least had had the sense to migrate themselves out of the direct light of the dawning day. Both siblings were, at that moment, nestled in the grass beneath the shade of a nearby glade of trees. Yue was lying prone on the ground, eye to eye with the overgrown blades of grass to which the summer humidity was sticking. His arms were lying limply by his sides, and he had coiled up his long tresses of hair into a kind of rudimentary pillow. The concept of a shirt seemed to have been forgotten long ago. Violet eyes looked heavy and half-open, but were nonetheless responsive as they flinched momentarily with a sudden flicker of pain.

He let out a long hiss towards the beast on his back.

"That would be the spot, huh?" Cerberus inquired, leaning down over Yue's right shoulder.

"Yesss," the younger boy whispered back, drawing out the 's' as he closed his eyes again and bid his aching body to relax.

"Yeah, I guess you were telling the truth then," Cerberus continued lightly, turning his focus back to his sibling's bare back, "Can't figure out how you could injure that one without flying."

This situation had been progressing for roughly the past fifteen minutes: Yue lying shirtless on the ground with a half-curious, half-caring lion standing on his back, trying to work some of the kinks out of his flight muscles (needless to say, this was one matter he considered himself pretty well versed in, thank you very much!). The first couple of minutes, the cub had tried working on the wings themselves, but now had bid his roommate to hide them away. He currently had his front paws deeply buried in what he assumed must be Yue's left supracoracoideus. The area was, in fact, slightly red and swollen like a developing sprain (what may have been the beginnings of a bruise were lightly coming in near where it connected to his shoulder).

He said 'assumed' because, similar though their flight functions were, Yue's musculoskeletal anatomy was widely varied from Cerberus' as far as wings were concerned (well, widely varied _in general_, but…). Whereas his own wing joins were nicely situated directly between his shoulders and his rib cage, for instance, the lion noticed that Yue's enjoyed no such anchoring. Instead, the shoulder of his brother's wings lay within a deep, bony-ridged, circular depression in either of his sibling's scapula, forming a fragile-looking ball-and-socket joint (though Cerberus could hardly have understood it thusly at the time). In fact, his scapula themselves looked quite enlarged compared to Clow's (the only other human he'd had the pleasure of studying), and impeded so much on his thoracic vertebrae that Cerberus wondered if they would touch when Yue brought his arms back. Though the holes in his back for these extra appendages had been roughly sealed with skin upon the disappearance of their master's wings, Cerberus could still feel a bounding pulse though the area—as if vessels were still surging blood to and from unseen limbs. Altogether it looked a lot flimsier a system than he himself was enjoying—the cub was reminded of a conversation he'd had with the blond nearly a year ago in which he'd been called lucky that he was a quadruped rather than bipedal. At any rate, this was all much more alien to Cerberus Reed than he would have initially believed, but he was still getting by. (Yue flinched as the beast, lost in thought, continued to absentmindedly massage his sore tissues.)

He'd poked around rather meticulously at first, not being entirely sure in this situation what his sibling might have injured. When you came right down to it, he figured, basic flying musculature was rather like a marionette: pull one string and they go up, pull the other and they go down. All else was accessory, and Cerberus didn't like things too complicated. The difficult part was figuring out which was which. He thought he'd identified the 'down strings', his pectorals, which were huge and reached from the bottom of Yue's wing joints, across his ribs to meld into stronger musculature in his chest. The offending muscle he was working on now was what he believed to be his brother's supracoracoideus, the 'up string' which raised his wings after their downstroke. The only thing which still kept the cub wondering was that, if this really was one of Yue's primary flight muscles, he had a sneaking suspicion why the boy couldn't get off the ground. One of the largest muscle groups in birds—and hell, even longer in Cerberus himself—Yue's supracoracoidei were short: they reached only from the base of his wings and were in all appearances attached directly to his spine. There was so little muscle and space in comparison to Yue's massive wingspan, that now the older boy had no problem understanding why he always hurt himself if he tried to fly. His brother must not really have any upstroke at all—how could he with such flimsy anatomy in that region—and he wasn't sure when or _if ever_ the boy could develop the weak musculature well enough to sustain flight.

Maybe Yue's wings were all for show, he thought terribly, swallowing down bile. Perhaps he, Cerberus, was simply doomed to roam the skies on his own, his brother little more than a cripple—a flightless avian.

Oh God, he was a bloody penguin!

It was a terrible thought. Could this day get any worse?

"Cerberus?"

The little lion blinked stupidly a few times. He felt as if he had just been yanked back from somewhere very far away. Damn, getting older made him cerebral!

Yue had opened his eyes and was watching his companion with a worried stare. If Cerberus had been human, he would have flushed horribly.

"Sorry," he murmured, shaking himself out of his stupor. Brain now back on the situation at hand, he purposefully turned back to kneading his brother's back. Yue laid his head back down but continued to watch the creature all the same. What was he so worried about? He was fine, right? He was the great Cerberus Reed! What reason did anyone have to worry about _him_?

"Cerberus, what's wrong?"

For the second time, the little beast paused. He knew what Yue was getting at. He was having a particularly depressing day. All of this stuff about feathers and wings and disability would have been bothersome on any day, but there was obviously something making it all seem much more stressing on this particular afternoon. Damn it, nothing had been right since breakfast that morning—but what could he say? Was it really worth saying? Rather than look his companion in the eye, he turned his head down and studied his toes with feigned interest.

"It's nothing," he said softly to his feet, "Something stupid."

"Cerberus," Yue whispered again. His voice was even quieter than Cerberus', but his tone was gentle and sincerely concerned; the lion atop his back couldn't help but glance up and meet his gaze. "What is it?" the young boy whispered again (Cerberus had to remind himself how young Yue still _was_, his manner was so fatherly that moment). The senior studied his junior's face with uncharacteristic scrutiny. The blond's eyes were soft and clear; they quivered with genuine worry as if to invite him to speak freely, no matter how 'stupid' the problem.

Cerberus Reed sighed.

"It's Clow," he said at last. Yue looked at him curiously, but did not interrupt. Taking a shaky breath, his partner pressed on (simultaneously resuming his kneading of Yue's trapezius, peaking beneath the boy's flight muscles). "It's just…" (he hesitated) "It's just, I don't think he remembered my birthday.

"I know. I know, It's dumb," he hurried on before his sibling could get a word in, "I know it doesn't really matter much in the grand scheme of things, but…I don't know, I guess I just thought he'd acknowledge it a little. I mean," he punctuated his main point by driving a particularly powerful thrust alongside his brother's spine, and Yue had to bite his lip to keep from groaning and braking the cub's mantra), "I mean: look at all the crap we've fought through to make it to one year!"

"That isn't stupid," Yue panted back (trying not to let Cerberus on to just how much his eyes were watering in pain). Cerberus himself nodded dejectedly, but made no response except to withdraw his paw from his roommate's musculature. Moving slowly as not to startle the beast, the mage rolled over onto his back, and faced his brother (now situating himself near the cusp of his ribcage) square in the face. "It isn't stupid at all, Cerberus." Once more, the leonine creature smiled weakly and nodded, though his eyes were still dejectedly drooping. He looked so pitiful that Yue began to feel knots tying themselves together in the pit of his stomach. Damn it. He had to say _something_!

"Look," Yue began again, trying to make his voice sound as light and hopeful as possible, "It could just all be a simple misunderstanding." He was grasping at straws, but he'd be damned if he was going to let his brother realize it. "Clow _is_ foreign, after all—he's from China. I actually hear they're not too big on birthdays over there, except for certain memorial years…" his voice trailed off. That was pathetic, the young magician thought to himself. He should just bury himself in a hole and never try to communicate with sentient life again.

Cerberus seemed appreciative of his brother's attempt, however. "Thank you, Yue," he murmured genuinely, trying a second time to smile. "I'm sure you're partially right," he continued, either regaining a slight bit of his confidence or else feigning it well if he wasn't, "I'm sure people over there do have really different ways.

"But, all the same: I still think Clow would have said _something_. Especially after all the danger and shit we've gotten ourselves into this year! It's almost a miracle we both survived to see summer again!"

Yue flushed a scarlet color, but threw his bangs in his face to hide it as best he could. "We've not been in _that much_ danger," he muttered in reply, "just the blizzard really…"

Cerberus genuinely chuckled—half amusedly, half sadly. "So says the fool who went and got his heart ripped out because he'd gone fever-crazy."

Yue's face suddenly drained of all color, but a second later it returned once more, even redder than before. Against his will, his heart began to pound against his ribcage as if it knew it was being talked about. (Damn him and his flighty nerves!) How could he possibly compare that situation to the blizzard? Sure, perhaps sealing Shield had been a bit… intense, but scarcely _life-_threatening! Honestly, to suggest that _he_ had been so reckless as that little bastard—! "Th-that doesn't count!" he coughed out defensively, still trying to hide his burningly scarlet face from view, "It's not like I was even hurt—!"

"Not your body."

Yue froze mid-sentence and stared at his brother, skin once again once again seeming to pale beneath his ruddy cheeks. His heart began to pound even harder. Eyes were fixed bewilderedly at Cerberus. What was he talking about? He tried to ask the cub this aloud, but found his throat had gone curiously tight. Cerberus however seemed to have read his intent.

"You think just because there's not a scratch on you that you got off Scott-free from that whole affair, Yue, but you didn't!"

"Cerberus," Yue attempted to cut in to his own defense. "Whatever you seem to think is wrong with me—"

It seemed, however, that his brother would hear nothing of it. "There's no _seeming_ about it really," the cub shot back in all seriousness. Yue bit his lip in frustration, but remained quiet. "You just can't tell because you can't _feel_ the presence of your own life force."

The younger boy had to force himself not to roll his eyes. Honestly, now Cerberus was going too cry to him about how he'd somehow corrupted his power or his _soul_ or whatever? His sibling had been opposed to the whole Shield affair right from the off, there was no denying that. To be fair, the cub hadn't said anything specifically to him until now, but it was clear all the same from the strained relations at the moment between the little lion and his master that there was some sort of battle of wills going on between the two—and Yue was somehow certain that he was at the center of it. True, he had to admit looking back on it all, his actions the past winter did seem a bit…rash, but he could scarcely believe that sealing away the spirit of The Shield could have caused any serious damage to his essential being. After all, it was just like all the other cards, wasn't it? There wasn't anything _unusual_ about it—didn't Clow says sword was based on some sort of personality trait of Cerberus' as well? And he certainly wasn't making a fuss about that.

All the same, however, even as Yue tried to mentally talk himself down, he couldn't help but notice the strange quickening of his pulse and the ominous feeling of sickness that seemed to be rising in his throat. Did his body know something that his conscious mind did not?

"There's a gaping hole in your aura now," Cerberus continued, looking his sibling quite seriously in the eye, "like a big, bleeding wound,

"Right here." he whispered, and nudged his nose pointedly against the middle of his sibling's breastbone—almost directly to the spot where Clow's staff had touched. There was no denying the anatomical significance. Yue's heart began to beat so hard and so fast that he was _certain_ Cerberus must be able to feel it through his chest wall. It made him feel dizzy. The nausea that had been creeping up on the boy suddenly reached a fervent pitch. He wanted to be sick.

"Please let me worry about you," Cerberus whispered most quietly of all, lying down across his companion's body and snuggling his head into the boy's chest (apparently unaware of his sibling's current level of discomfort). "Little brother," he added slyly.

For a moment Yue seemed paralyzed, and the lion appeared to have resigned himself to not getting a response. Then, very slowly, he raised shaking arms and wrapped them comfortingly around the cat's neck. "Only by ten days," he muttered weakly, but relaxed nonetheless and allowed his wayward sibling to remain in his embrace.

…

The sun had finally set.

The rest of Cerberus Reed's day had been no better or worse than it had started off, but whether it was better or not, the lion in question found it much easier to deal with after his conversation with Yue.

Clow still did not seem to even realize that there was anything particularly special about the 20th of June—and perhaps it really was simply a matter of not wanting to make a fuss—but whether he was ignoring or forgetting, one way or another Clow seemed a hell of a lot more pleasing on this side of being comforted by his brother. Either because of this new outlook, or perhaps because the older sorcerer was still trying to figure out what he had gotten shouted at for earlier, the lion cub found his master a lot more jolly that evening. Even the food seemed twice as good as usual!

Yue had stayed and entertained them for a time, but had retired early when Cerberus had decided to descend upon the dinner table with a new level of gluttony. Clow had laughed heartily at the whole affair, and, indeed it was the nicest time the growing feline had had alone with his father for as long as he could remember. Now, however, he was fat and happy and it was at last time to head off to bed himself. Not an altogether bad day, he mused, smiling contentedly. At least it had ended on a high note, even if it hadn't been the birthday he'd originally imagined. True, he may not exactly have been the beloved lord of his castle, but he _was_ older, and he _was_ well loved—even if by some rather disturbed individuals. Hell, maybe he was a bit wiser now with his newfound age. Maybe he didn't need those old games of grandeur so much anymore—at least not as seriously. But damned if he was going to let them see any change in his façade: they might forget who their better was, after all; it was only for their own good!

Cerberus skipped his way down the hallway and up to his bedroom door. He seriously doubted that his brother would be asleep at this early hour, but in a surprising showing of consideration, he entered carefully and quietly all the same, closing the door again behind him.

As he suspected, Yue was anything but slumbering. Instead he was lying artistically across his bed (in a way that only Yue _could_), a rather large book propped in front of him. Nope, nothing unusual there. Just an ordinary evening in the manor. The only slightly interesting thing that was out of place would have been his shirt, which the young mage had apparently discarded. Instead he had opted for a cold, wet cloth which he had lain across his sprained shoulder region. He had also taken his hair down (maybe he was cold) and it was cascading freely all around him, dangling off the bed. For a moment or two, Cerberus was filled with the unpredictable urge to put his kitten face back on, and have a good swatting session with the loose strands. A moment later, however, another curious sight caught his eye.

The little lion froze. He blinked a few times. What was this?

On the other side of the room, where his own bed stood, and which was usually strewn with little more than dirt and dust, an unexpected bit of color had appeared in Cerberus' peripheral. Lying on his pillow, amid the mess of tangled blankets, was a bouquet of sunflowers. Both confused and oddly enticed, the cub gently leapt onto the mattress (careful not to disrupt the delicate disorganization of the sheets) and examined the flowers more carefully. The blossoms shown as bright as the early morning sun that he had watched rise that very day. They smiled up at him with their cheerful faces, and something about it all made the beast's eyes well suddenly with tears.

"I guess Clow didn't forget your birthday after all."

Yue was no longer reading. He had set his book to the side, and was watching Cerberus with an oddly tentative look on his face.

"I—" he stuttered, less eloquently than he normally would, "I hear that it's a bit of a custom out here in Western Europe to give someone flowers on the anniversary of their birth."

Cerberus smiled to himself, eyes still heavy with emotion. But he would entertain hi brother. "I thought you were talking earlier about Clow being from China," he offered back.

Yue flushed a brilliant shade of crimson. Cerberus struggled not to chuckle. "Yes…" the boy began, even more flustered than before, "Well… None of us exactly live there now, do we? Clow left China, you know," he continued, a little more strongly, glancing up to meet Cerberus' eye, "to come here; to give birth to us—and to make his cards—so…

"So maybe this is his way of saying that he _does_ acknowledge you, and _is _happy for you, Cerberus, even if his culture up till now isn't one to outwardly show it."

The young sorcerer fell silent again the moment he had finished, and buried his face beneath his hair as though embarrassed by something. Cerberus smiled again, a bit more widely, but he wasn't going to push Yue. Not tonight.

"Yeah," the lion replied carefully arranging his flowers on the nearby side table and climbing into bed himself, "Just maybe."

…

_Ten days later…_

Day rose again over the tiny village of Lightwater, Surrey—as it had exactly ten times now since that fateful morn of June the 20th, 1682. There was no blinding light outside as there had been a week-and-a-half ago, but the sun still shone weakly through a sea of puffy white clouds. It was perhaps the coolest day southern England had experienced all summer long. A gentle ocean breeze drifted in from some distant coast line. Birds in the surrounding trees were singing and chirping in delight at the splendor early afternoon. Upon the placid wind, the scent of wildflowers floated lazily up from the plains below. Yes, it was truly a lovely day—perhaps not with the blinding summer assault which Cerberus had enjoyed a sort time prior, but ringing all the same with a gentle sort of beauty. Even the sky above seemed to have made contrasting accommodations for this, the _thirtieth_ of June: where they had been a weak robin's egg color on the twentieth, the heavens above were now a stunning shade of periwinkle. A midday moon hung high in the sky as well; a year ago, the same moon had been born full and shining before the witching hour, but today he was risen at noontide—a thin, retreating crescent. Somewhere unseen, the constellation cancer hovered above the northern hemisphere.

Groggily, Yue Reed opened his eyes.

The hour was late, _that much_ he knew full well, though his lethargic brain seemed not to want to process very much else. What was interesting was that he didn't particularly _care_ how late it was. Damn it. Couldn't someone arrange for morning to come later? Violet eyes were still leaden and heavy and objected heartily to being held open. Grumbling, Yue closed them once more and rolled onto his side. The world could just piss off: he was waiting for the rest of his consciousness to come online first, before he braved it!

The young blond hated mornings—even when they came in the middle of the day (which they quite often _did_ in Yue's case). He'd dealt with 365 of them so far, and was rapidly deciding that he liked the activity of 'waking' no better one year out. Oh lord, and it didn't stop there, did it?—Yue mused to himself as his mind began to stir more consciously—This was going to keep happening to him _every day of his _life!

…Oh, God's—! And a sorcerer of his power could live for _centuries_! Centur_ies_! As in plural! Damn it all, he whined to himself as he pulled the covers up over his head, centuries of _this_? Couldn't he take a nap in there for about thirty years or so? Or could _daylight_ take a nap? (perhaps he should move to the arctic…) Still half-asleep and whining pitifully, to himself, Yue began to do some (overly) serious maths. 365 days in a year, and even if he only lived three-hundred years… and that _wasn't_ counting leap days—!

Needless to say, he didn't like the numbers. Couldn't just this once the night stretch on forever and let him sleep to his heart's content? The moon was still up, wasn't it? Couldn't someone just put the bleeding sun to bed and call it nighttime?

At the word 'sun', Yue's eyes snapped back open and he sat bolt upright, tossing his sheets aside. His melodrama was as quickly forgotten. The weak afternoon sun was filtering in through his window, the textured glass casting an array of highlights and shadows onto his half-naked form. He blinked a few times, seemingly with confusion. He looked left. He looked right—shaking his head slightly as if trying to get some unseen thing to come into focus. Curious, he thought to himself as he let his tense muscles relax, he'd thought that he'd felt something amiss in his bed and assumed surely that he's wake to find Cerberus laying on him again. There was, however, no cub in sight. Well, happy birthday, Yue, you're already going senile! Perhaps he _wouldn't_ have to live through those one-hundred-and-nine-thousand-five-hundred-and-seventy-two or so mornings after all: not if he was already going mad at age one!

However, before he could continue this train of thought, the young sorcerer noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye (something which, thankfully, seemed to suggest he was _**not**_ going senile). Unbeknownst to the boy as he had slumbered—or as he had grumpily awakened—there was something pleasant-smelling and purple gathered at the head of his bed. With both confusion and insatiable curiosity, Yue turned around.

Lying beside his pillow, their blooms cascading across the fabric, was a bouquet of fresh lavender. His brow furrowing slightly in confusion, the blond lifted up the sweet-smelling blooms and examined their pale violet faces. They really were a lovely collection of flowers—the scent of the lavender fields had always been his favorite part of the late-spring early-summer period—but what were they doing here? It was then that the fledgling magician noticed something else which had escaped his attention prior. Beneath where the pile of lavender had lain there was a small, scribbled-on bit of scrap paper. Setting the blossoms down for a moment, he took the parchment in both hands and held it closely to his unbelieving eyes. In large, messy handwriting it read:

_They were almost out of season._

_Happy birthday._

For a moment, Yue could only stare at the paper—blankly, as if it were written in a foreign language. Then, slowly, very slowly, a smile crept its way to his lips; he laughed out loud—first timidly, then with no restraint. Falling back against his bed, he chuckled softly to himself and held the flowers to his chest, breathing in their soft perfume.

So, perhaps Cerberus wasn't such a fool after all!

…

Clow had once again situated himself at the table of his self-created dining space, book elaborately laid out before him. Long ago he had discovered that this particular scenario was simply perfect for setting himself up to appear composed and dominating whenever he was expecting someone's entry. His sons were rather predictable, after all: they were each polite enough to at least grace him with their presence every morning. And this in turn, Clow thought to himself bemusedly, meant that he could easily be ready for them when they arrived like clockwork in the front doorway of this little room. The wizard smiled and chuckled quietly—seemingly at his own brilliance. Cerberus had already been down for the day and had long ago bounded out for the grounds; he was probably frolicking around out there by now—Clow didn't care. Not today, he mused hungrily, sliding his tongue cunningly across his teeth; today he truly was the matter of his household—and there was simply no way Yue could deny him. The typhoons in his belly began to roar again even at the thought of the boy and what perfect plot he had in store for him! He had composed his dress a bit more than usual today: around his shoulders he wore the sleek vest and cape normally reserved only for his nighttime indulgences; down his legs were a fresh, dark pair of trousers and newly-shined boots—he had even slicked back his flyaway hair! Yes, Clow felt masterful—powerful! This was his moment, his _chance_, and that blond British beauty was at his mercy.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the sly sorcerer's ears were greeted with the soft sound of someone very light-footed descending the steps of the nearby grand staircase. Clow smiled once more—wider this time, wilder. Showtime! Before the young blond in question could so much as reach the base of the stairway, he rose from his chair and situated himself elegantly in the room's polished wood doorway.

"Why hello there," he whispered seductively, "Yuè." He let his tongue toy with the last two syllables, impregnating them lavishly with their foreign pronunciation—savoring them as if they were a fine wine.

Yue froze in his tracks, clearly taken aback. With a swell (oh yes, very much a _swell_) of masculine pride, Clow thought he heard him gasp. The moment suspended temporarily in time, the older man took the opportunity to look over the child that stood gaping before him. Fair, colorless skin shone like porcelain in the midday sun; its pale hue could have disguised no blemish or flaw: it betrayed every vein which coursed beneath his flesh, every flush that brushed his cheeks. Barely-whiter garments streaked down his sides: thin, summery, only just disguising the lean body beneath. His eyes shimmered with a surprised innocence (_virginal_ innocence, the beast inside him cooed, though such a thing could scarcely been said in this time and this place of a _male_), although they seemed strikingly more violet today, either from increasing blood flow or… or something else. Curious, Clow's own eyes wandered to his hair, which was undoubtedly different this morning. Yue had tied his hair very low today; it streamed straight down his back, unhampered, until it reached the very base of his spine. Here he had tied it and plaited beneath so that the pearly strands only just brushed the floor. The great quantity of loose, shimmery locks almost made Clow whimper for the desire to touch them—to run his hands through them—but it was what the boy had done with the top of his hair that was momentarily requiring his focus. He had twisted the front strands around his face up and around the back of his head today, so that they rested just above his ears like an accentuating headband; and into this roll, he had artistically nestled an array of fresh lavender. The violet color of the flowers matched brilliantly with his pale irises and bid them shine twice as brightly as they might normally have done. He looked simply lovely.

Now it was Clow's turn to be taken aback, though he was careful not to show it. Today, he had to be in control—dominating.

"You look beautiful," he commented unabashedly, waltzing easily forward so that he stood dangerously close to his young ward. Yue took a shuddering breath as his master loomed over him, inches away, and ran a large tanned hand through his hair. Clow smiled victoriously; the boy shivered at his touch—he seemed to melt like a candle to his flame. He felt his pride…_swell_ even more. His inner beast roared like thunder. "Yes," he whispered almost silently, drawing even nearer as he plunged a second hand deep into the colorless silken tresses, "very beautiful,

"But," he brushed the back of Yue's neck lightly with his thumbs, and forced the boy forward until the two of them were nearly touching, "if I may ask, what of the flowers?"

Yue chuckled airily, weakly; his eyes were focused hard on his master, pupils suddenly wide and dilated (Clow grinned with glee—all was going according to plan!). "I suppose they mean I'm a poor liar," he replied at last, his voice feeble and cracking with emotion. He could barely speak; he was like clay to Clow's hands—he could mold him any way he wanted.

The older man made no reply, but slowly, gently, he began to move his hands. The right one slowly slid its way down the blond's figure—taking quick survey of his vast, avian musculature as it caressed his back—until it reached the base of his spine. Yue whimpered weakly as it slid into place, sending a curiously hot chill through his vertebra. Powerful arms tensed suddenly, and the boy gasped as he found himself pressed waist-first against his superior's body. Clow straddled his stance slightly, allowing Yue's legs to slide between his—he had to have him as close as possible, had to _feel_ that child so near to his flesh! His right hand still grasping the young mage's back, he held them as closely as he could, supporting the boy some for the increasing angle at which he was having to lean to keep their faces parted. Yue was still frightened—he was so innocent. He was a ripening apple, begging to be picked. The left hand moved as well; it softly slid across his neck, and cradled his chin lovingly, thumb stroking his cheek. "Clow…" Yue whispered weakly, but his master was scarcely listening.

Clow was still smiling coolly, his attitude carefully as if nothing were amiss, though he could sense full well the adrenaline rush quickly overcoming the creature in his arms. His grip resting around the child's neck, he could feel the pulse positively pounding alongside his throat—feel as he swallowed hard in panic, in uncertainty. The sorcerer let his hand fall down the blond's neck, a single finger lightly tracing down his windpipe all the way. Upon the crux between his clavicles, fingers paused momentarily. Yue gasped powerfully as the hand plunged beneath his shirt, and clamped down in the place directly on top of his heart—and with the fierceness it was pumping right now, he had no doubt that Clow could feel it! A horrible flush rushed to his cheeks like a forest fire.

"Your heart's beating so fast," Clow remarked calmly (in a tone that he hoped sounded at least a bit concerned—as if he didn't know why Yue's blood was racing) as he palpated beneath his son's breastbone. "And you're flushed" he pressed further, hungry eyes gleefully scanning the youth's emotion-filled face with mock surprise, "you're not feeling ill again, are you?" The incident with Shield to which he had been referencing had been months ago, but the ploy still had its desired effect: Yue's face reddened even further, and he had to toss his hair across his eyes in an attempt to hide it.

"No…" he muttered almost inaudibly. The beast inside of Clow was now a whole cheering squad—the boy was completely his now! All he had to do was press a little more…

"That's good," the wizard murmured in reply, releasing Yue's ribs and raising both arms to cuddle the child into his chest, "after all," he cooed…

"It would be a pity if you were unwell on your birthday."

And suddenly, there was silence.

For a moment in time, all that Clow could perceive of his young ward was the twitching of the boy's heart awkwardly beside his own—racing like a frightened animal. But even so, Yue did not respond. Odd… he'd thought surely that the child would get so flustered at this point… had he said something wrong? Perhaps he had taken him entirely too far?

But a second later, the blond boy spoke again, though his voice was different now—still tremoring with adrenaline, but somehow more cool… more _controlled_. "I'm sorry," Yue replied from somewhere in the region of Clow's chest (and much more composedly than the wizard would have thought him capable of at this point), "I'm sorry, but what was that last?"

Clow blinked, utterly dumbfounded. He hadn't been expecting this!

"Well, today is your birthday, after all—" he answered, still trying to sound as intimate as he could muster through his surprise, "the thirtieth of June."

"That's what I thought you said." Yue replied curtly, at once releasing his hands from his master, and easily pushing their bodies away. Clow looked as if someone had hit him in the face with a sledgehammer. Still shaking slightly, the younger sorcerer brushed aside his partner's numb hands, and backed himself to stand on his own a foot-and-a-half away.

Clow was still gaping. "I…" he stammered, obviously trying to rap his head around where the beautiful boy in his arms had gone "I don't understand…!" His composure—his act of dominating coolness was at last completely shattered. He had failed—he had failed to dominate him, a_gain_! He looked up to Yue with a hurt, twitching gaze.

Yue's face, however, was unreadable. "Maybe I'm not as mature as you think I am, then," he whispered. Clow seemed more confounded than ever. "I'm sorry," the blond said again, stronger this time, "but I think my place right now is out with my brother—playing in the sunlight perhaps."

With difficulty, the older magician seemed to find his voice again "But… Yue, I don't understand! What brought this on?" now it was _his_ turn to sound weak.

There was something accusatory behind the boy's eyes, but the child himself merely shrugged with mock playfulness. "_Vita luna_." he offered whimsically, and then in a flash was dashing out of the entrance hall and out onto the grounds to join Cerberus (he had something to thank that little brat for, he thought to himself as he lightly fluffed the flowers in his hair).

Clow Reed could do nothing for a moment but simply stand there, staring at the spot where Yue had just vanished. His brain seemed to have gone completely offline. How long he stood rooted there, the sorcerer could not be sure, but he knew it was when he could be fully certain that his son was gone that he let words tumble from his lips once more.

"…why…?

"Why? Why! **WHY**!"

The screams echoed throughout the spacious entry hall, but there was no one left to hear them. Yue was gone—he had been there and now he was just gone, off to play with Cerberus. _Yue_ of all people! Angry and powerless, Clow fell to his knees, fists beating the floor with frustration as hot tears threatened to leak from his eyes.

**WHY** was it that he couldn't have that boy? **WHY** could he always somehow elude him!What had he done wrong? Was there something going on here that he didn't understand! Something he had overlooked? _NO_! _**NO**_! There couldn't be! He was the master of his house, damn it! He was in charge—in control! He _**dominated **_them! They would _**DIE**_ without him! Why? _Why_! _**WHY**_!

Panting and heaving, Clow threw himself against the floor. Viciously he grasped at the key around his neck, and hastily murmured the spell to release it. Pausing only for a moment he thrust himself hard off of the wood floor, and jabbed the point of his staff with unnecessary force at the boards upon which Yue Reed had just recently been standing.

"_SEAL_!" he screeched as he tossed a tarot card roughly over his head.

There was a bright flash of light, but the wizard below didn't particularly care. Once it had sealed, he snatched the card out of mid-air before it even had a chance to float to him. With purposeful force, he flipped the thick paper over and hastily read the scrawl on its front: The Illusion.

An Illusion? _An illusion!_ It was all supposedly a bloody _**illusion**_! His control? His dominance? His brilliance? His absolute understanding? **All** an _illusion_! No, damn it all, **NO**! He _was_ in charge! He was their _master_! He was master of their very souls! **HE** was the one who had given them life! How could they possibly hide anything from _him_! If not for him they would still be just a couple of revered spirits floating around comatose in the cosmos! He may not have created their souls, their hearts, _their being_, but he brought them into life, damn it! **HE** made them breathe! He _had_ to be superior! He _**HAD**_ to be!

Panting from the tsunami of emotions overtaking him, Clow grasped at his skull as though it were about to burst, falling once more to his knees. He had to think of something! He had to think of something to remedy his situation!

Then, at once, it came to him.

Plunging a hand clumsily back into the pocket of his vest, the magician withdrew yet another battered old tarot card. "What is it then?" he asked aloud to the strip of paper, "What is it then that I don't understand about them? _What is this secret camaraderie they're keeping from me_?"

Then, hurling the card into the air, with the last of his strength, he once more cried "_**SEAL!**_"

Blinding light filled all the room. Clow collapsed. Seconds passed in which he was only just hanging onto consciousness—would it be so bad to slip away? Who was there to see, after all? But a heartbeat later, the light had begun to dissipate, and a familiar, still-glimmering object floated down close to its master's face. Sighing, Clow took the card in hand. Forcing himself into a sitting position and pushing his glasses back up his nose, the wizard stared at the emblazoned paper before him.

His face broke out into an evil grin.

On the front of the card was the figure of a small girl; long flowing hair cascaded down wither of her sides, past a shimmering looking glass in her hands, and flaring out behind her were wings of fragmented glass. Licking his lips, Clow chuckled wildly and deviously—he might have been some demented child giggling over an early Christmas gift. _The Mirror._ Oh yes, somehow—innately—he knew what _this _card was for!

Perhaps, he thought slyly to himself, it was high time he started actually _using_ these things!

Still grinning like a giddy schoolboy, the foreign sorcerer raised his staff to the lonely card. His sons were both out in the yard—off bonding in their special, secret way, he supposed, perhaps talking about what their father had done so grievously wrong. Running his tongue one last time across his lips—like a snake—he spoke softly to his paper companion:

"Show me Yue.

" _Mirror_!"

…

…

_Love never fails. _

_But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears…At present, we see the world _

**through **

**a **

**glass,**

**darkly…**

_then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. _

_But the greatest of these is love.—_1 Corinthians 13

* * *

AN: Hello everyone! I know, it's been a long time since I last updated-I'm sorry! I knew that my brain was a bit scrambled about this chapter, but I didn't know that it was going to cause me this much trouble. In all honesty, I've been going through some really rough times in my personal life right now: what with comas and deaths and traumatic injuries-as well as an increase in my course-load-I've simply been overwhelmed lately. But there is nothing, _nothing, _which will ever keep me from finishing Rooster here-and this is just the first arc! So, don't worry: no matter how long I'm gone, I swear I'm working on the next chapter somewhere, and I'll be back eventually.

Anyway, I apologize that I didn't have time to look over the last couple thousand words (the CxY scene and what follows) properly, but what with my visual disabilities and the overwhelming nature of my life and schedule right now, it simply would have taken to long for me to read over that last bit before posting. On that note: I'm actually looking for (not just one, but) a few good beta readers to help me out as far as managing this fic goes. I could really use a few people who could help scan these very long chapters for me and help spot typos, grammatical errors, and things like redundancy (repeated adjectives, etc.), as well as a few kind souls to help me with the massive revisions/ rewrites of the earlier chapters. Please let me know if you're interested in either (or both) of these beta positions. Also, because I'm not sure people are aware of it: On my profile page you can always find a teaser summary of the upcoming chapter of Rooster, as well as an occasionally-updated status of where I am as far as getting said chapter written. Just something so that you lot don't all think I've fallen off the face of the Earth when I'm really stricken with massive writers' block.

In case anyone was wondering: yes, the wing anatomy was essentially correct (I mean, obviously there aren't any flying human specimens that one could compare to, but...). One of my biggest pet peeves in the fanfic community are people getting wing anatomy incorrectly (or illogically on flying humans), so, as a medical major, I did an extensive research project and worked out a functioning anatomical/physiological system of muscles, nerves, bone, and blood vessels for the case of a humanoid who happened to have wings. (Seriously, I have a ton of anatomical drawings on the subject which I did to work it all out, so...). Just a fun fact :). I know that this chapter had a bit more adult language and themes than previous ones: this will be more common as time moves on and the fic gets darker (Yue's got to get that level of psychosis in the Final Judgment somehow!) but I swear that, no matter how bad it gets, there will never be a culminated sexual relationship between Yue and Clow-and subsequently no true lemons (maybe a few limes). There may or may not be a slightly explicit scene opening up the next chapter-even Clow is entitled to sick, twisted fantasies, even if they aren't coming to fruition. I haven't decided yet, but there will be appropriate (perhaps even comical, I'm thinking) warnings surrounding the section in question if I do decide to go that direction. So, rest securely, my lovelies-and thanks for reading! Don't forget to review (please? No, seriously, it was two new readers reviewing this thing that gave me to oomph I needed to push through the last couple of scenes and get this chapter finished, so seriously: review)!


	15. Daydreams and Nightmares: Part 1

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

_AN: PLEASE READ THIS FIRST. Hi guys, this is just a warning that, while most of Rooster could be rated T, some parts do need its M label. The second section of this chapter (the one taking place in Clow's study) is one of these M-rated sections. I promise that it is not a lime or a lemon, for I have tried to do it tastefully and by implication, but there are some dark/adult things going on in the first part of that section. I promise that this is the last you will see of truly "creepy" Clow, but in order for him to realize just out of control he's gotten, he needs the events of this second section to truly show him where his dark passions will lead if he doesn't put a cap on them. For the sake of my precious readers, I have utalized the trope called 'The Drapes' in that section (yes from TV Tropes: the first time I've ever consciously used one of their tropes XP). So, if you wish to skip the "creepy" bits, you can probably read from drape mention to drape mention until you get to those double ellipseses down there and still understand well enough to read on. I do reccomend you read through, however, because I've made sure that it isn't truly so much explicit as simply dark. The rest of the chapter is much lighter with some pancakes, good old Clow remorse, some Cerberus angst, some Clow Card fluff, and some rediculous brother antics between Cerberus and Yue. So, please read on and enjoy :)_

**Part Four: Card Games**

The inky sky above Lightwater was dark and sticky as fresh resin—and just as unattractive; the phrase 'pitch-black' suddenly seemed more appropriate than cliché. Not a single sparkling star seemed to grace the sky, though the night was perfectly clear (the only thing that _was_ perfect anymore); whether the moon had risen yet or not, one couldn't be sure, for it was new and lightless this evening. Perhaps it would be so forever more. Darkness… the power of darkness seemed to have consumed everything. The sky above the village might not have been a sky at all, but rather a deep and merciless void into which everything came to die.

Damn Darkness.

Damn magic.

Damn everything that had brought this stain upon the house of the Reeds.

A single, solitary figure stood in one of the shadowy windows of Reed Manor, staring out at the night. In the dim light of the early morning, he looked like a specter himself, standing silhouetted against the landscape beyond. He was a tall gentleman, but judging by his stature, he was anything but proud. His clothes hung limply from a body which had grown desperately thin; a weak, tremoring hand grasped at the cold stone of the windowsill. Where once-broad shoulders had been, now sagging, atrophied arms hung in their place. A worn old cloak tailed down his back and licked his sides: an attempt to hide the shame of a man who had fallen so far from grace. A thin, hollowed-out face flickered in the feeble candle light, and long, unkempt hair whirled about it in the breeze.

The gentleman shivered. Ever more tightly he clasped at the thin strips of paper which he held tightly to his chest; in the semidarkness, one could never have guessed that they were a deck of cards—let alone what they had caused!

Things had not used to be this way. This house had once been the sight of much hope—much happiness; now it merely echoed with loss and solitude. Halls which had once resounded with merriment had now become yet another home for the terrible darkness. Likewise, the village of Lightwater had once been a beautiful place: the stars had once shimmered overhead like millions of distant diamonds, and the moon had once hung lamp-like over the horizon. Now the heavens merely stood as a reminder of all that had been lost. Once again, the somber figure in the window fixed his eyes upon the inky blackness above him. Perhaps one day, the darkness would consume him too—and take all of the Earth with it. Perhaps creation would simply scrap this life and start all over again. These days, he could almost believe it. He too had changed. The silent sentinel lowered his tired, wrinkled face from looming tar pit as he thought on it. He was not by any means old, the man regarded bitterly, but his body showed every sign of aging before its time. Stress had reduced a once proud figure into emaciated frailty, and tragedy had marred a youthful face with dark circles and lines more befitting of King Lear.

Something like anger began to well inside of him—regret. Against his will, the gentleman in the window felt hot, sticky tears rise suddenly into his eyes.

It wasn't fair, he thought bitterly to himself as he wrapped his cloak tighter against the night air. How could all of this have happened? Surely he could have prevented all of it—surely he could have saved them!

Long, wild hair fell around the aged face as he hung his head in shame and frustration. In the half-light, drops of saltwater sparkled from beneath the flowing locks, and tumbled out of sight to the ground below. First they fell sparingly, then like a shower, then like a downpour; streams of wet completely covered the contorted face of their owner. Droplets stuck to the now long and wiry beard upon his chin.

They were dead.

They were dead!

They were all dead!

Knees giving way, the shadowy figure collapsed to the floor beneath him, tremors wracking his body all the way. No longer having the strength to care about composure, the 'master' of the manor dissolved into heaving sobs, the sound of his choking breath filling the otherwise-silent night. Sitting, hands and legs curled in to his torso, the man's cries rung out yet again. Dull, hopeless blue eyes fell upon the pile of cards he had been clutching. Those cards, those stupid cards! They were the cause of all this! With one final screech of fury, he threw the things to the ground. They spewed out across the ground beneath him like entrails spilling freely from the gut of a disemboweled criminal. How fitting. How appropriate.

But the scattering cards were not enough to contain this pain, this fury which was welling up in him. Those wretched _things_! This whole wretched _existence_!

Damn it all! Damn magic! Cerberus—Yue! They were _dead_ because of cards and darkness and bloody _**magic**_!

Throwing his tearstained face back into the wind, the broken man gave one last cry of anguish, and the sound echoed so much across the silent abyss that surely it must have even ripped through the hearts of the villagers below. All the world, surely, must have heard it:

"Damn you, Clow!"

The wind picked up again as he screeched, and blew the figure's hood back as he thrust himself back off the ground. The gale struck the candle on the wall with its powerful gust, and the entire room was momentarily alight with a horrendous fiery glow. The rays fell upon the angry, weeping creature in the window. It fell upon pale, ivory skin. There was no foreign quality to this master of the manor: there was no tinted olive skin, no curiously thin eyes. Where the hood of his cloak had been thrown back the firelight revealed a mess of frayed, matted hair. But it was not sleek, obsidian locks which cascaded around this man's face, but rather a gaggle of golden, unkempt curls. The holder of the cards indeed, but it was not the face of Clow Reed which was coated with tears, damning the horrors that the Power of Darkness had brought.

"Damn you, Clow." The old Englishman whispered to himself one last time. But there was no use condemning his old friend's name any longer. There was no use in damning the dead.

Once more the pathetic man fell to his knees and wept. What honor had he left anymore?

The darkness… had taken Clow, taken his old friend. And he had been helpless to stop it—any of it. Images still burned in his mind: images of a great lion, limbs sprawled across the floor at unnatural angles. Silent, motionless. Cakes of thick red mess coating the entirety of his middle. Images of Yue's empty eyes fixed at the ceiling, their once-violet color now nearly blue as the blood behind them drained away from his retinas…

What hope was there left in this universe?

"Don't worry, _sensei_."

The words had come out of nowhere, and all at once the man ceased his crying and whirled around to face his rear. The voice that had echoed out to him seemed to have come directly from within the confines of what he might have called a soft pink glow. High-pitched. Female. Foreign. '_Sensei'_?

Eyes adapted to the darkness around him protested as he tried to squint at this sudden light, but despite the pain, the doctor forced himself to peer through his watering eyelids. At the epicenter of the brilliant pink there was indeed a figure—a girl. Brown hair. Green eyes. Who was she?

"My friends are safe," she murmured again, "_sensei_."

The blond man opened his mouth to speak, but found himself cut off.

"It's alright, Ben," a second voice whispered: deep, male, British. The doctor lifted his head once more and forced himself to glare into the radiance around him. Two figures were beside the girl: one golden and low to the ground, the other a man standing by her side and glowingly white. "After all," the strange voice continued, and he realized it was the pale gentleman speaking,

"This is only a dream."

Something violet flashed across his vision.

"_Yue!"_

…

…

Benjamin Hawkins woke with a start. He had just had a very strange nightmare.

**Chapter 8, Daydreams and Nightmares**

Clow Reed's study was ominously dark, though it was well into midday. Over the wide multitude of windows, a series of thick scarlet drapes had been drawn so tightly that only a slit or two of light shown amongst the lot. They were really quite lovely drapes—created from some sort of thick velvet, embroidered lavishly at the bottom with golden thread; soft to the touch and passionately red. They were lovely drapes; exactly the sort that one might want to pan over to if there was something going on elsewhere that they would rather not watch. Yes, very lovely; very red.

Dark shadows loomed about the room—about the drapes; they cast everything into a kind of half-light though which figures seemed almost black, and through which only the very outlines of things could be clearly seen. The only source of illumination was a single candle perched, burning away, on a nearby desk. Hot, white wax rolled down its sides; the pool beneath it was so large that now it too was overflowing its container—molten liquid spilled carelessly onto the old writing desk. The candle itself had shrunk so far now that it seemed the entire object was quickly losing its solidity—any second the entire structure might collapse spectacularly into a puddle of flaming mush. The fire atop its wick seemed far too large for such a small form to withstand.

The sound of tick, heavy breathing was coming from somewhere; the terrible noise of ragged gasps filling the air like a noxious gas. One might have been convinced to believe that some terrible creature had crawled in here to die—a bat or a rodent perhaps, or some other monster that would enjoy this darkness. One might have conceived that there was perhaps some ravenous carnivore growling in this room, awaiting a helpless victim but to open the door so that it could ravage him. One could almost believe that they would turn the corner to see a panting, ailing old man lying upon one of the nearby couches, coughing out his death rattle.

But there was no one lying upon the couch—in fact, there was no one gathered around the sitting-area fire at all. No, the horribly displaced grunts of labor were instead emanating from somewhere on the hard wooden floorboards.

There was another faint sound echoing throughout the darkened study; this one was tiny by comparison, almost inaudible and completely irregular. But somehow it was twice as frightening.

The second noise was also coming from the floor, but this was scarcely a nightmarish aggressor. It sounded like a small whistle being blown against typhoon winds—high pitched, desperate, and nearly-silent. There was a tone to it which was wounded—screaming—like the cry of a wild animal moments before it collapsed in wait of the scavengers.

The voice was crying—sobbing with fear, and it sounded horribly uncharacteristic.

On the ground, his hair reaching all the way across to the long flowing drapes, was the trembling figure of a young boy. There could be no question that it was in fact a boy because, though he had clearly tried to hide himself beneath his curiously long mane, he was quite nearly naked all down his shaking body. An incredible force was pressing him into the ground, hiding most of the child from view beneath it, but his pale expression stuck out starkly in the misty light. He was crying. Cheeks plastered with tears attracted loose strands of silvery hair, and they stuck to him as surely as if they had been glued there; his sodden face and sweat-laden body shined in the candlelight. Wide eyes were locked in terror—and something almost more sinister—upon the creature which loomed greedily above him; his pupils were so wide that they nearly hid the startlingly violet irises beneath.

The tiny child that might have been Yue Reed whimpered once more as he averted his eyes away from the hungry, panting monster that was all but drooling on his chest. The creature which towered over him was apparently human in form, but the very aura which the thing gave off suggested it was anything but. It was vast and black, its form draped with something which could conceivably have been either a long flowing cloak, or the very embodiment of darkness itself. It leaned over its captive prize while it panted hot, sticky breath onto his neck.

The boy was his! His at last!

The beast had pinned Yue's waist to the ground with the weight of his own powerful legs. He was stretched over him now, merely taunting—_savoring_ this moment as his fresh game laid splayed and bare beneath him. One of his hands gripped hard at the child's wrist, pressing it hard to the floor. The other had just found its way to his neck and remained there, clamp-like, holding him firmly to the boards below. Fresh tears began to stream from Yue's eyes, but his whimpering cries were stifled to nothing more than a high-pitched whistle as the pressure increased on his throat. The predator above him smiled wildly.

"You've been playing games with me, Yue," it purred into his right ear, the stink of hot breath once more overwhelming the helpless prey.

"C-clow!" he managed to whimper in reply, coughing against the strangulating grip.

"But now you will obey your master!" the wicked monster of darkness hissed, "Your pride will know its place!"

In desperation, Yue strained against his captor, trying to force himself back off the ground, but three of his limbs were plastered vice-like to the floor! With a grunt of frustration, 'Clow' pushed him back down once more and squeezed his throat so tightly that for a moment Yue's vision was clouded by a hazy black shadow; a series of strange explosions was going off in his head.

"Now, now, Yue," the dark monster hissed slyly, "There's no need to be so rowdy." Grinning with an evil satisfaction, he loosened his hold slightly against the still-stunned boy's windpipe; beneath his iron-hard grip, he could feel the pounding of the boy's pulses against his palm and it filled him with a swell of masculine pride. While his subject was still in a daze, he shifted his weight farther down, bearing hard against Yue's thighs, and laid a string of kisses hungrily down his breastbone. The boy squirmed beneath him at the new contact, and let out a feeble whimper as fresh tears cascaded from his eyes; he did not, however, try to throw his captor off again—not as long as the beast was in full control of his air supply. 'Clow' smiled widely—insanely. This beauty was his! He was helpless against him now! Laying another kiss directly in the center of the boy's sternum, the shadowy sorcerer nuzzled his cheek lovingly against developing pectorals. Yue's blood was pounding so furiously within his breast that, even though inches of muscle, he could feel it as surely as if it were beating in his own hand. Chuckling slightly with pure pleasure, he pressed his ear against the child's chest and listened properly to the cacophonous noise of the mage's terrified heart: its rate was so fast he couldn't have counted it if he wanted, and its tone was so forceful that it almost sounded more ceremonial than biological.

The dark figure chuckled again, pushing himself back into a looming position. "You're so agitated, Yue," he cooed seductively, releasing the boy's wrist, and using his free hand to gently massage the boy's precordial region, "You don't have to be so uptight." Yue whimpered as fingers slowly trickled down his front: caressing the lines of his abdomen, perusing across his waist, sliding between his hips. He tried to cry out in protest, but the grip around his throat squeezed warningly and he released his breath in an airy whistle. He felt coarse flesh stroking his flesh far below his waistline, but was helpless to stop it. "You see now?" his attacker cooed, "Just _relax!_" This time Yue did cry out as the unwanted hand slipped between his legs, caressing and massaging place he'd rather it wouldn't.

"Clow, _please_!"

But the beast upon him did not yield. With a resolute grunt, he felt the hand exploring him tighten and the one about his neck pound down against his breath again. His body tried reflexively to cough against the pressure, but all that could escape this beast's rock-hard grip was a strangled splutter. The broken blond swore he could his hammering blood backing up behind his 'master's palm as rainbows once more shot into his vision.

He had to do something, the creature reasoned wildly as Yue continued defiantly to fight beneath him—to fight his dominion! He had to do something more—he had to claim victory over this beauty one way or another! Licking his lips, he made his choice. "I'm sorry, Yue, but you should have been a good boy—I'm afraid this is probably going to hurt you." Shifting his weight, the shadowy figure let one last wild thought cut across his mind: this would have been so much easier if only Yue had been female.

But what did that matter really, but convenience?

With a horrible force, Yue felt his thighs wrenched forcibly apart. He squeezed his eyes shut—he tore his gaze away! The monster roared and the candle on the desk at once flared into a raging fire.

The nightmarish monster was consumed by the flames, and his victim beneath him was burned by them.

…(so, again, about those drapes,)…

Pain shot though Yue's small frame. Fresh tears exploded across his face. He felt himself scream though his mind had not given the order. He felt his own agony trying to rip its way out of his lungs! …But no ear-splitting noise resounded. The hand around his throat became so tight that it caught his cries within its grip. He choked upon his own terror, his own torture, his _suffering_!

…Then, all at once things grew very silent. The world suddenly seemed to become dampened. All the sound in this universe seemed to all at once cut off like his silent scream. The only noise which remained was a great pounding in his ears—beating in time with the great throbbing in his head!

He was betrayed…

Tainted.

Soiled.

And something else…

Breath caught inside him, vision full of sparkles, the young blond's gaze fell decidedly upon the drapes behind him. He stared at the drapes: they were all that was here in this room; lovely drapes. Velvet. Red. Quite lovely. One should stare at them.

Blackness began creeping in at the corners of his vision. Suddenly everything was much blurrier. He couldn't really say he knew what one sensation was to another anymore: that was elsewhere. Fuzzy. Velvet. Curtains. Fuzzy… it was fuzzy. The world. His head. The drapes. Everything swam out of focus, and then there was darkness. The Power of Darkness.

Even that one remaining noise…

…fell silent.

…

…

Clow gasped for breath. He was quite certain that he had just come down from somewhere in the stratosphere. His brain was a little foggy yet—perhaps it was still in the clouds, those lovely _lovely_ clouds! But, except for a little disorientation, he was in control of himself again—he was powerful, domineering, confidant once more. Oh, thank the _gods_ that was over!

The light within the room suddenly seemed much greater now. The candle behind them had gone out, but sunlight streamed onto him from the slit in the curtains and at last the man's figure was cast into view. Glowing illumination fell upon his pale, sweaty face, his flyaway hair, his long greying cloak. The magician was human once more.

"Yue," he muttered, voice still shaking from adrenaline and heart pounding somewhere in his throat. He paused a moment to straighten his askew glasses, but still received no response. "Yue?" he murmured again.

Now a new sensation was flooding into him. Any remnants of the dark, passionate beast died instantly.

"YUE!"

This child which lay before him was limp, pale, and unmoving. His diaphoretic skin had taken on a sickly grey hue. His eyes were softly closed, and a dark, widening bruise was growing upon his windpipe; red, angry nail marks graced the sides of his neck.

Clow's brain had suddenly gone offline. If there were clouds in his head, they suddenly became leaden. Thoughts, solid and heavy refused to move forward in his mind. Along the sorcerer's side, his hands had begun to twitch. Then to tremble. Then to outright tremor. His legs beneath him too, Clow just barely perceived, seemed to have gone into spasm. As if… without a mind to command them, his limbs—his nerves had all gone into a terrible epilepsy.

"No…" he murmured, his shaking fingers reached out and lightly touched the cuts along the sallow boy's neck "No… please…" His voice was so weak that it scarcely made any noise at all, but Clow was far too withdrawn to notice its quality:

Yue wasn't breathing.

"NO!" the man screeched with a sound so horrible it might have fractured glass. All of Clow's mental faculties came on at once, and they were all screaming the same thing: pain. Pain. PAIN! Tears didn't so much fall as burst from his eyes. Saltwater poured everywhere as he dragged the limp body up into his arms, hugging his lost child as he cried uncontrollably against the once-fair flesh; stifled wails emanated from somewhere in the contorted mess, but Clow held no restraint.

His brain would still not allow the magician to fully register the situation, but his most primitive, most animal instincts seemed to know what had been done. He felt no pulse of life as he held his boy close to him—there was not the usual faint flicker along his bruised throat. Squeezing him tighter, he clasped his ear to the child's breast, but was not surprised when he was greeted by silence.

"No…" the defeated wizard murmured, his arms at last giving way, and his desperate squeeze of the dead boy gave way to a weak and affectionate hug. "My poor Yue…" Screeches turned to muffled whimpers, and fountains of tears became steadily flowing streams. Sadness replaced the animal fury of loss. Gently, almost having to force himself to let go, he gave the blond one final hug, and lowered him down once more, eyes surveying sadly the damage they had done—that they could never undo. Fresh tears burst forth, and Clow squeezed his eyes tightly shut to hold them. A still-trembling hand reached out and ruffled silvery hair. "My sweet little boy…

"And I'm so sorry!"

At once, Clow whirled around, screaming the phrase as he did so. Eyes blinded by tears, he couldn't be sure exactly what he was shouting to –or why? Nothing made sense anymore—Yue was dead: nothing _need _make sense! But some part of him seemed to be sure—seemed to know she was there, for when he spun about, a small, pink, blurry figure greeted his sights.

He didn't know how he knew her; his conscious mind had no idea who she was. But deep in his unconscious, an even greater guilt was growing at the sight of her shocked, pale face.

A single tear streamed from green, welling eyes; it trailed down her porcelain cheek.

"_Clow-san…"_ she murmured.

"I'm so sorry!" he said again, this time lacking the strength to shout…perhaps to even feel? "I am so…

"Sorry."

…

…

Clow Reed woke with a start.

He also screamed—loudly.

…

And for quite a long time too.

In fact, Clow wasn't even quite sure when the screaming stopped or started—or indeed if it had actually done either: it seemed so equally possible at that moment that it had always been there. Eternally. As if he had spent an entire lifetime now screaming.

What he was sure of was that at some point he was not screaming: he was panting, gasping for breath with his nightly covers pulled tightly to his chest. A cold sweat was streaming all across his body, but at the moment he genuinely didn't give a damn. His brain was apparently still somewhat paralyzed: the image of Yue's grey, lifeless skin seemed to be consuming its every neuron.

A pair of cards floated to him from somewhere out in space. Still not completely in control of his mental faculties, the sorcerer made a flying leap for them; reaching blindly and wildly, he grabbed them roughly out of the air and the lot of them collapsed in a frenzied heap of sheets on the bed below.

"Yue!" he shouted at the sheets of paper, eyes not even registering which they might have been (though something in his senses assured him they were of lunar sign) "Is Yue alright!"

The cards made him no answer, and Clow quickly and thoughtlessly tossed them to the side. He lunged for his desk: arms landing atop it and his nose almost being broken in a collision with the drawer. He didn't care at the moment—pain did not even register. Grasping what he had dove for, he clasped The Shield to his chest, and all at once fell backwards against his pillow in a wave of relief. He could feel that tinny ebb and flow within the Shield card which told him, surely, that his son must be alive. Brain at last coming online, he let his senses reach out and allowed the calming waves of Yue's aura to wash over him.

Thank god. Thank _God!_

For a long time, the sorcerer stayed like that: rocking gently from side to side across his mattress, Shield held to his breast, feeling the rhythmic pulse of violet aura which told him without a doubt that his youngest child was still living.

It was all a dream. Thank _God_! It was all just a terrible, terrible dream—Yue was sleeping soundly somewhere at the far end of the manor, not lying cold and dead on his study floor.

The two cards which had initially come to his rescue began to rise timidly from the floor, and hovered slowly toward their suddenly giddy master. Clow was so pleased at that moment he could have kissed them.

"Illusion, Mirror, did you show me those things?"

But Clow didn't wait to see if cards were capable of responding to him, and made his own answer:

"No, you couldn't have, could you? That was…truthful, wasn't it? Not an illusion… not a show put on by anyone.

"Reality. A warning."

Releasing Shield, the magician stopped his celebratory rocking and laid flat and sprawled against his completely asunder bedding. He didn't know if what he had just seen was vision, or nightmare, or some sick invention of his own fantasies—of this horrible darkness that seemed to be growing within him.

But there was one thing which Clow was certain of: he would never let that come to be. He would ensure that no travesty such as any of that which he had seen would ever grace this house. He would make things—_make_ them—the way they had been before. Darkness may be the unique source of his power, but it need not own his heart too. He would make things right. Happiness would reign in this house again. Cerberus had been right all that time ago when they had talked after the cave: He had warned Clow that he would hurt Yue. Perhaps he really would. He could not take that risk; it would destroy him.

Closing his eyes and swallowing hard, Clow murmured one last thing (to himself, or to the cards, or perhaps to the all-knowing ceiling above him) before he rose to face the day:

"I will never touch him again."

…

This place was unfamiliar—foreign.

A wide expanse of land stretched out before the surveyor: the ground was dry and greyish in color, but still yielded a vast field of dark green cover upon it. He scrutinized the blades as they graced his toes—even the grass was different than he knew it now. Where was this place? One thing could be sure: it was most certainly _not _the rolling lush hills of Surrey, yet somehow this strange flora seemed…familiar. He was at home here in this alien place, but could not remember why…

He was a silent observer as he walked phantom-like through the wild landscape—seeing, but unable to be seen. He floated ghostly past a small village which seemed to be made almost entirely out of the strange grey mud beneath him. Small huts were capped with straw roofs and adorned with rough-hewn doors; they were half inset within the ground as if the entire home were one slightly-depressed basement. On the front porches, he observed the most bizarre people: they looked nothing like Englishmen; if he were to compare them to anything, it would most likely be Clow, but even he was not a perfect model. Their skin was darker and tanner than Clow's, for one thing; their eyes were much narrower, heavier. The people looked as foreign as their country. Both the men and the women, he noted, were dressed in what he would have called—well, _dresses_!—and had the silliest hairstyles this spectator had ever seen. Wives had hair twisted up in the most elaborate of knots, and their husbands looked uniformly like a bunch of balding men with really long ponytails…

Honestly! Where the _hell_ was he?

Padded feet stalled for a moment, taking in the village with extreme confusion—the young cub was trying to wrack his brains and remember how he had gotten to this exotic place, but no answers were coming to him. And whatever was running through his mind, his feet seemed to have little to do with it: even as he was standing there perplexed at the mud and the dresses and the ponytails, they had begun to move again of their own accord. For a moment, Cerberus thought about stopping them, but then thought better on it. He may be confused by this place, but for some reason he didn't feel particularly threatened by it—and besides, perhaps wherever it was his feet were taking him would have some answers. Turning away from the makeshift homes, he headed slowly back down the dirt path that lay before him.

As if his thoughts had commanded it, time suddenly seemed to take a dreamlike kink and soon (much sooner than it should have been in reality) Cerberus was no longer standing beside the poor village. The lion blinked. There were still the same dark fields all around him, the same pale earth—he had to be in the same general area. What dominated his vision now, however, was not little mud houses. A vast, elaborate gate loomed before him. It was strange in design, like the rest of this place: a tall, arched roof adorned its head, and vast stone walls created its face; at the top, near the shingles, an array of intricate designs had been painstakingly carved as well as a prominently-displayed symbol which Cerberus couldn't even begin to guess at. Hmm, well maybe he could begin to _guess_ at it… it did kind of look like a number three with a plus sign on top… or perhaps a twinkle star…

No! This was not the time for playing guessing games! And _certainly _not the time for twinkle stars! This was serious business! He was lost in some kind of foreign country after all (and yet… he didn't really _feel_ lost somehow…).

Shaking himself back into the problem at hand, the little lion gazed warily once more at the ingress and the formidable walls which stood around it. There was no metalwork, no true gate-like door barring his entrance. Taking a last glance to either side, the cub pressed hesitantly across the threshold.

But nothing attacked him—in fact, there weren't even any people visible on the other side of the elaborate entrance. Strange… but then again what about this journey _hadn't_ been strange? The interior of the estate was an entirely new world. On every side of him, an array of magnificent buildings stood tall and proud. They were much like the entrance gate in appearance, he supposed; that is to say, thick stone walls formed their sides, lavishly carved at the tops, and arched, shingled roofs sat atop each of them—some even had multiple tears! Brightly painted beams and other decorum graced several of their facades—greens, reds, golds, shimmered all around him even in the overcast light. Lush gardens full of exotic plant life and neat, paved paths wove in and out of the buildings—he could even hear the sounds of what might have been a large and extravagant lake in the distance. Overall, the place had an incredible sense of grandeur—even to a confused foreigner. Wherever this place was, the lion mused, it was owned by very wealthy masters, perhaps even more so than the Reeds! The estate stretched father than the eye could see, and Cerberus was completely overwhelmed by it. It was so strange and beautiful…and yet oddly familiar. He felt as if he was coming home after a long vacation away; but how could that be? _He_ had never left Reed Manor!

Cerberus wanted to stay and play—to frolic amongst the regal architecture and lordly landscaping—but his feet were still leading him onward: there was someplace he was supposed to go, something else he was supposed to see. Pouting only slightly, Cerberus trooped on, his padded paws enjoying the feeling of the cool stone path. As he continued to walk, some of the cub's earlier apprehensions began to resurface. As beautiful as this manor was, there was something that bothered him about the apparent desolation of the place. Surely there should be people here? People busying about and laughing—even if they were all inside, he should be able to _hear_ them… it was just a bit odd, and it worried him. Also slightly perturbing was the fact that the farther the shivering creature walked, the darker the sky around him seemed to be becoming. Night was quickly setting.

The scenery around him was changing too. Cerberus had not yet met any of the exterior walls—there could be no question that he was indeed still inside the complex—but the longer he traveled down the winding path, the bleaker and less-fantastic the buildings around him became. As he crossed a small bridge, the stone path he had been walking on gave way to a humble dirt road. On the side of a slight hill which rose to his right, a group of weathered stone houses had been erected. They were plain and hardly ornate, and seemed utterly at odds with what the lion had seen of the rest of the grand estate. Walls of the houses were stained a horrible black color in places from years of weather; windows and doors were little more than roughly cut holes in the stonework combined with what looked like tree bark. From what he could see of the floors, they were nothing but uncovered dirt. These dwellings were better than those he had seen in the nearby village, but not by a great margin. Perhaps these were the servants' quarters? But even as this idea floated across his mind, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. These were not the homes of slaves or maids: this is where the rest of the _family_ was supposed to be living! This was where—!

Suddenly, Cerberus was not Cerberus Reed, young lion cub of Reed manor. Glancing down at himself, the beast observed his once overlarge feet which were now in perfect proportion with a quartet of long chiseled legs; his body was no longer short and soft as it had been in his youth, but long and lean with maturity; the tufts of hair on his face and chest had grown long and regal. The majestic creature glanced toward the creek, and surveyed his sleek, pampered coat, and his exotic adornments (he took a minute to ruffle his painstakingly curled 'mane' and to straighten his little silk jacket). Yes, he looked very good—odd, a moment ago he had almost felt like a child again, like a _cub_! He almost felt like he was fresh off the boat from Reed Manor again! But perhaps that was because of what he had come to do tonight. He practically _had_ still been a child…

…the last time he'd seen Yue.

The thought of his estranged brother brought Li Cerberus' mind back to the present—back to the ramshackle hovels that stood before him. This was supposed to be where the rest of the family lived: past all the buildings of the main house, around the lake and across the creek, but… this was scarcely housing for _nobility_! This was the housing of slaves—of _prisoners_! But there had to be a reasonable explanation, the beast reminded himself. The elders had told him that the residents out here had moved to this remote corner because of their unfounded resentment of the Main House—out of jealousy! Was this all some kind of elaborate act? Were they trying to make themselves pitiable by portraying themselves so poorly—trying to further disgrace the name of the great Li clan? Disgust suddenly boiled within Cerberus' belly. These ungrateful people… he couldn't believe that Yue had betrayed them so much as to move to _this_ contemptible part of the estate.

Strolling disgustedly down the dark dirt lane, he at last came upon the shack he had been seeking. This particular dwelling was not even made of stone, but almost completely of wood; it looked more like a refurbished shed than a house. Nonetheless, a sign on the door assured him that he was in the right place. In pointed English lettering, a homemade wooden sign was emblazoned with familiar handwriting:

'_Yue Reed of Surrey'_

"Oh, _honestly_!" the large cat murmured to himself as he pushed open the door, "Yue!" he called into the depths within "I need to talk to—"

But his words were quickly cut short by the gruesome scene which met his eyes.

The interior of this hut was dirt like the rest of the homes—dirt and what looked like a good quantity of hay. The walls were dark and hastily re-boarded together in places; a single candle was burning somewhere off in the corner where a soft female voice was sounding from, but the primary source of lighting was the moonlight cascading in through the door behind him. There was indeed the figure of a young man doubled over upon the floor, but whether it was his brother or not, Cerberus could not be sure. Yue was not the child he had known back in England either: he was at least a head taller now (though it was difficult to say from the position he was in), and his hair was feet if not yards longer. It was the shape of his figure which seemed to have changed the most, however. Yue had always been rather small of frame, but where lean, youthful flesh had once graced was now a solid expanse of deliberately toned muscle. His shoulders were twice as broad and sturdy as they had been in his younger days, and his entire upper body was chiseled and honed into a compact masculine shape—Cerberus suspected that he could produce a powerful gale with the new force supporting his wings. His brother was not a scholar any longer: he had a warrior's body—a _fighter_'s body! There seemed to be no softness left within his flesh at all…

Or perhaps in _any_ of him at all.

Yue's face was half-hidden in shadow, but what the lion could see of it was a completely different orientation from the boy he had once known. Indeed, his face was now lined—sharper, harsher. He was at once incredibly more beautiful and incredibly more tragic. Even with the pallor of his skin, something about him was dark—dangerous. If it weren't for the distraction of the mage's wings and his labored breathing, Cerberus suspected he wouldn't have been able to take his eyes off Yue's startlingly more mature appearance. The wings, however, couldn't be ignored.

The dusty floor at his feet was completely covered with something fluffy and white; it took Cerberus' brain a few moments to process what exactly it was he was standing upon: feathers. Perhaps twenty individual primaries—primaries which seemed to have been ripped directly from—! Slowly, very slowly, his eyes drifted upwards and he dared to look properly at his sibling's wings. The great beast nearly felt sick to his stomach as he stared at them in horror.

Yue's wide white arms were spread out around him, encircling his slightly-quivering form, but they were not the majestic appendages Cerberus remembered envying back in 1682. Where a long row of proud (and massive) flight feathers had once stood, a string of what looked like long crimson spikes struck from the base of his brother's wings. It was like some kind of horror straight out of the lion's childhood nightmares. The tubules were long—as long as the lion himself even at his adult size—and pointed at the end like some kind of sick spear. Their color was a sickening shade of red: crimson red—_blood _red; they jetted out of his brother's body as if they had been ripped to the surface from somewhere deep inside him. And they were pulsating. Very slightly and very faintly, but there could be no doubt that a regular, rhythmic surge was pounding through the spindles. They might have been a living, twitching parasite. What had happened to him? At the very tip of the spines, what looked like wisps of white feathers were protruding fanlike, but otherwise gave no sign of the beautiful plumage which had once been there. The flesh around the base of the wings, where his primaries were normally attached was fully exposed. His skin was raw and red—viciously inflamed around the places where the spikes had sprouted; it was all painful even to the observer (who could nearly feel his own vanished feathers standing on end from the thought). If Yue had looked like an angel before, he now looked like the angel of death.

Angel of _death_. Suddenly, an even colder terror slipped its way into Cerberus' chest: a terrible realization had just washed over him. These spindles were not parasites—they were not the constructs of some nightmarish curse. They were growing _out of_ his brother's body of their own accord. Their dark blood that was surging though them was Yue's blood, and the unified beat surging through them must have been the pulse of _Yue's_—!

"Oh my _god_, Yue!"

Cerberus couldn't help but cry out at the sight of his sibling's plucked, apparently mutilated body, but he had only begun to rush into the room when a pair of cold, dagger-like violet eyes fell upon him. He halted immediately.

"Well, look who it is," a low, sinister voice whispered, lips cracking into a kind of sadistically-amused smile, "Chen, come see: it's the Elders' favorite lapdog."

There was a slight rustling sound in the corner, but the woman hiding within the shadows did not emerge. Yue paid her no mind, however, and (flinching) rounded upon Cerberus. It had been a long time since the leonine creature had been faced by the piercing stare of Yue's amethyst eyes—they seemed even harder now than they had been before: _colder—_but terrified though he was of his sibling's startling new attitude (hell, of this whole _situation_, he thought, looking wearily toward the bloody spines striking out of the magician's skin), he did not back down. "I told you never to come here," Yue spat at him, gaze not once faltering, betraying no hint of compassion.

Cerberus bit his tongue, almost afraid to speak; every instinct within him was warning him that there was something very wrong here. That, gruesome scene aside, there was something wild and unstable about the mage's presence right now: something _murderous_. But despite the warning signs flashing in his head, the beast pressed on: "Yue, your wings—!"

But the blond cut across him. "Yes, lovely, aren't they—nice of you to care now!

"You should have come around on New Year's," he hissed, paling with obvious pain as he stood straight, dragging his mutilated wings along with him "You could have caught a glimpse of the number your precious highborn brats did to my insides. Now: get out."

"Yue, I—!"

"You're worried about _me_?" the dark sorcerer chided, throwing back his long mane of hair and chuckling madly, "Oh Cerberus, it's yourself that you should be worrying about."

"Me?" the lion stuttered in confusion, "But I—!"

Yue laughed again, something about it drove chills down his brother's spine. "But of course you. What? You thought I got to bear all the suffering for this family?"

The sorcerer's words cut across his sibling like a knife. He knew what the man was referring to, of course: it had always been Yue that everyone had been concerned about back in England. Irrationally so. After all, had any one of them been in more or less danger than the others back then? Had anyone's inner conflicts been more or less than his housemates'? But even so, it _had_ always been Yue that he and Clow had been fretting over. Cerberus turned his head away. Had he been so in the wrong? Yue _had_ been ill once, after all in the winter of '81… of course, the beast reminded himself, _he_ personally had developed a nasty concussion once (the night Yue was born, in fact). And then there was the blizzard thing… But all those years ago… the dreams he had had! They had always shown him horrific settings where his brother was concerned. None of them had ever happened, of course—at least not in the literal sense. But… even now, _this _situation. This was just like his old nightmares! Seeing Yue here like this, with his wings in such sickening, unnatural disarray… it was _just_ like those times! _Just _like his…

Nightmares.

"So you've realized it then?" Yue whispered. "This is a dream, Cerberus. You think this would really be happening? You think you're really all grow up? So soon?"

Cerberus felt like a rather large bubble around him had been popped. Suddenly, he was not a large and pampered lion anymore. Suddenly he was a confused cub again with over-large feet and tail. He was Cerberus Reed, resident of Reed Manor, not the Li Clan Estate, and it was July 1682, not August 1700! Even the terror he had felt upon seeing his sibling…like this… seemed to have faded. It didn't seem nearly as real anymore. Yue's eyes were still dark and cold, his wings still throbbing, his form still hardened and battle-ready, but he did not truly feel like Cerberus' brother anymore. He was more of a specter: a warning—a stranger.

"It's 1682, Cerberus," the powerful mage murmured, "The cards are almost sealed—there's a storm coming soon. And this time it's coming for you,_ big brother._"

Many things then happened at once—as if the cub's realization had triggered it. A soft pink light suddenly lit behind the small beast's back and a breeze kicked up somewhere out on the lawn. A flurry of delicate pale petals blew through the doorframe; Cerberus had never seen anything like them before: they too were faintly pink—like the glow which accompanied them—and delicately scented. He got no chance to examine them further, however, for at that exact moment, a clap of thunder sounded outside. The room was suddenly much darker.

"Brace yourself, Cerberus," 'Yue' whispered softly, smirking evilly in his sibling's direction. Then, all at once his hands were surrounded with a brilliant, crackling energy; in less than a heartbeat, he whipped the currents around his head—around his bleeding wings—and the entire room was filled with a blinding white brilliance. It cast the pink luminance behind him onto almost non-existence. The blond's hair was whipping wildly, his face contorted as the surge of raw power gathered around him.

There was another clap of thunder outside. Then, all at once, Yue struck.

The bolt of energy completely consumed the lion, and he felt himself being hurled backwards, the beam burning his flesh inside and out all the way. He screamed. Long. Hard. He screeched so loudly that his voice broke over the sound of the thunder and lightning around him.

And he was falling…falling…falling back to earth.

The pale flush-colored light was surrounding him on all sides. Pink. Soft. Warm. Flower petals were cascading everywhere. He could not see the wooden shack anymore.

"_Kero-chan!"_

A cheery feminine voice was calling to him from somewhere out in the light, but all of the lion's senses were beginning to become dim.

"_Kero-chan!"_

She sounded worried about him. Why? Who was she? Did he know her? He couldn't quite remember at the moment.

"_Shikkari-shite, Kero-chan!" _

With a final surge of effort, the tumbling cub glanced up one last time at the white, shining sky above him. More petals toppled upon him as he turned his gaze upward to their source. There was a figure there, illuminated in the roseate bliss around them. She was small and slight; short boyish hair graced her shoulders. In her hands was what looked like a staff: a short staff—much shorter than Clow's—crested at the top by a fat crescent moon. He stared at the silhouette of the crescent. There was something else inside it, the defining symbol of her entire presence. It was a star…nestled in the arms of the moon…a glowing, chubby star…

He knew who she was now. How could he have forgotten? Silently, he whispered her name to himself…and then everything became blackness…

…

…

Cerberus Reed woke with a start.

He didn't scream loudly, but the cub _did _make what sounded like a high-pitched squeaking noise as he was thrust back into consciousness. He also thoroughly entangled himself in his covers, resulting in still more grunts and squeals until the little lion at last broke surface, panting.

He was back in his room. Back in his east wing room of Reed manor, and sunlight was blaring as usual through the tall, arched window. Beneath its light, in the next bed, his brother Yue groaned slightly and rolled over in response to all the frenzied noise, but showed no other signs of consciousness.

No other signs of _life_, Cerberus grunted to himself as he kicked away the last of his sheets. It must be somewhere around ten in the morning: Yue was still dead to the world at this hour. Dead indeed. Hell, sometimes he suspected that his sibling really could _die_ in the night sometime and no one would know the difference!

Cerberus started to chuckle—picking on the younger magician's sleeping habits was usually one of his favorite forms of entertainment, but something stopped him. As the thought cut across his mind, he was suddenly flooded by the image of his nightmare: Yue, _his_ Yue, wild and broken, plucked like a chicken for slaughter—bloody spikes ripping their way out of his wings! He shook his head furiously as if to dispel the vision. Despite himself, however, as he dismounted his bed, the still slightly-perturbed cub _did_ walk wearily across the floor where his roommate lay sleeping. The mage that lay before him had the same pale skin and silvery hair as the ethereal sorcerer from his dream, but the resemblances stopped there. This Yue Reed was still young and innocent. He was still barely five feet tall, unlike the madman he had dreamt of, and his body was still thin and tender—only just beginning to betray the signs of the chiseled, athletic form which had graced his future self. His face, while elegant and long had not yet become as sharp and distinct as he had seen, but rather was still soft and rounded with youth. His breath was slow and even with peaceful, painless slumber.

Cerberus let out a sigh of relief. Good. Then it really _was_ all just a dream. Still…there was something about the whole affair which was still making him uncomfortable. He had had disturbing nightmares before: it was scarcely a new occurrence for the cub; and what he had said in his dream was true as well—he had seen all kinds of things happen to Yue in his visions which never came to literal fruition. He had once dreamt that Clow was a blood-sucking vampire, for heaven's sake! _Clearly_ that wasn't true! Of course, he mused uneasily, that selfsame vision _had _warned him about a somewhat parasitic relationship between those two, hadn't it? Shield had been sealed that night. And they really _had_ been in danger of freezing to death during the '81 blizzard… Even if the things he saw _were_ more warnings than perfect pictures of true events, they _had_ helped him so far—and moreover, **this** one still had him feeling… odd. There had been that girl…

Once more, Cerberus shook his head from side to side. He needed to stop dwelling on things like this: it was going to make old and decrepit long before his time.

Sighing, he turned towards the doorframe to his room and easily glided through it. Clow should be up by now, perhaps he would make good company this morning—besides, there might be breakfast down there!

…

Yue Reed did not wake with a start.

In fact, Yue generally seemed to lack the power of prophetic dreams: his magic was focused elsewhere. The result was that he alone of the magicians of Lightwater got a rather excellent night's sleep on this July evening. In fact, he slept well into midday and had some rather pleasing dreams which involved Cerberus being chased by a wild bear, captured by nomadic hunters, and dangling from the rafters by his tail respectively.

The only thing that day which slightly perturbed him was why exactly his two housemates were looking so glum when he finally wandered downstairs to greet them.

…

Clow Reed was still feeling rather melancholy that morning when the new day had truly set in and bright sunlight had started pouring in the manor windows. All the same, however, he had managed to coax himself out of bed and had bumbled his way down to the kitchen. The sorcerer stood before his little clay stove in the far corner of the room; smiling ever so slightly to himself, he ran a hand slowly over its ancient and familiar surface. He had brought this particular appliance with him all the way from back in China. Those were the old days, back when he was first coming here to his father's house, young and idealistic. Truthfully, scarcely three years had passed since that day, but somehow in retrospect it seemed like a lifetime ago. Lightly, he patted the hardened earthen top and quickly grabbed one of the cast iron pans above to lie in one of its many cooking holes. He'd remembered trying to get this thing here: all the trouble it took to get it into wagons and guarantee it safe passage across the Mediterranean; he'd been so concerned about it at the time: he'd heard that they didn't particularly use cooking stoves here in the west, and he personally didn't think he could fend for himself without one. Yes, how important it all had seemed, such frivolous things. If only he'd known then what the real burdens upon his mind were going to be. Clow sighed softly, his moment of nostalgia broken; he bent down and easily lit a fire within the walls. Then he stood straight again, pushed his glasses up his nose, and set about getting things down from the cupboard. He was making something rather particular this morning. He gathered a large bag of flour, eggs he had gotten the day before in Lightwater, and a pitcher of milk which he himself had harvested earlier from the wandering cattle on the back part of the property.

He was making an offering to his eldest son.

As he began to beat his ingredients together in a large bowl, Clow's mind began to wander to the events of the previous night—of the previous several months, actually. Things had not been right in his household for a long time, he knew that now. And, wise though the magician liked to believe himself, he knew not how it had happened. Truth be told, he was starting to feel more like a sophist than a true philosopher. He bore down harder upon the bowl. Everything had started out so swimmingly—where had it all gone wrong? As if activated by the fervor of his work, more memories began to flood the wizard's mind—memories of his first year-and-a-half in this country. He recalled chilly autumn evenings back in 1680 just after he'd moved to Surrey. He could still picture the little pavilion that sat at the heart of Lightwater's square, just outside of old Tom's bar. He had spent many an evening there at first. He remembered the large cobblestone-like pavers which had formed the platform beneath his feet, and the little mismatched sets of tables and chairs which had dotted the foyer. He could still picture the grey September skies spanning out above him, and the cheers and cries echoing from somewhere within the pub at hi rear; he could even just picture that scraggly gentleman who used to walk about the streets, lighting the streetlamps as the darkness began to set in around them. Hawkins had used to accompany him in those days—hell, the two of them had been almost inseparable. Settling in to the village those first few months would have been a lot more difficult without the good doctor; sometimes, Clow thought bitterly, he genuinely missed the man's company.

The magician sighed; content with his batter, he proceeded to pour the first dollop of it into his heated pan as his thoughts continued to wander. He could still see Ben's face in his mind: young and grinning, sparkling blue eyes shining like sapphires amongst his bouncing golden curls. But there was another face too which swam across Clow's vision. It was the image of a tiny orange lion—scarcely more than ten or fifteen pounds back in those days. He'd almost forgotten just how small Cerberus had once been. Smiling to himself, he flipped his concoction over in the pan as pictures of a happier time overwhelmed him. His little beast had been so very full of life in those days too. Clow could just barely recall the various misadventures the two of them had had back in 1681, in those first ten days after his cub had been born. He remembered the struggle they had experienced with cleaning out the East Wing, the fun Cerberus had enjoyed once with a pair of his socks, the hot summer afternoon they had won against the ferociously overgrown gardens on the front lawn. The two of them had gotten on so well back then too… Of course, the sorcerer knew full well what had driven the first of these two figures away from him: Hawkins had run when he had asked him to the manor that evening that Yue was born. True, Hawkins had told him the following Christmas that he bore no ill will against Clow or his family, but it nonetheless remained true that the good doctor had once stood amongst them as a loyal ally, and now did not because he had come here that night to care for the boys. Where the void had fallen between himself and Cerberus, however, was another matter entirely. It was much more difficult to pinpoint where exactly their mutually happy relationship had begun to turn sour. True, his little lion had displayed a great deal of jealousy initially after Yue had joined their midst—and it was probably not unfounded! But the fact still remained…

The fact still remained that Cerberus had mended his ties with Yue—the two of them were strangely close now. But that didn't fix the animosity that the cub still felt for Clow. Images of the past December shot into the sorcerer's mind like heavy artillery:

"_I will never hurt him…" _his own weak voice whispered as he turned to walk out of the room, Yue in his arms.

"_Yes," _the specter of Cerberus replied, _"You will."_

With unnecessary ferocity, the wizard thrust his creation onto a nearby plate and set about pouring another. His nightmare from a few hours prior threatened to consume him once more. Damn it! Cerberus was right! He didn't want to hurt Yue—Yue was his _son_, for gods' sakes! Why… why were things like this happening? He wasn't sure what this creature inside him was, but its lust for that young boy was like sticky poison. It didn't belong. It would destroy them both! It had no place! His knees suddenly felt shaky and threatened to give way, but Clow Reed—the great Clow Reed would have none of this! Gritting his teeth, the aging man braced himself against the stovetop and refused to let himself fall… even as thoughts of the most terrible kind came flooding upon him. He had _been_ that creature in his dream. He had _fantasized_ about things like that—Mirror's whole existence was proof of that! He had believed it was _**real**_! Damn this darkness! What was it? Where did it come from? It hadn't been here at first!

Had it?

Biting his lip, Clow considered all that had happened in his life. True, he had long since been plagued by a kind of hubris—it was what had brought him here, after all: his arrogance and unshakable self-confidence. It was not a trait that had ever done him terribly wrong before. His pride was what had allowed him to begin this journey: what had made him brave enough to even attempt sealing the cards and giving life to Yue and Cerberus. He supposed that one could consider that a darker quality, but surely it was nothing like this—this _monster_ that he was threatening to become? Though true, the creature was very prideful…

Clow signed. Darkness: the power of darkness. That was the unique power signature he used. Not the power of the moon or the sun. Not of the signs that all other magicians swore under. No: darkness. It was an entirely new form of magic—it was the only thing that made him different from the rest of the magical community! His unique section of magical power which had made him capable of all the fantastic feats he had done thus far!

But why darkness? Of all the things in this universe which could have given him power, why was it that his soul had chosen to align with the dark? Not shadows, not night: dark. Darkness was more than just blackness, it was nothingness, emptiness, death. He had heard it once said by a wise philosopher that evil was a great nothingness where something should be—a massive hole in something where there was meant to be an essential piece of existence, but instead was…

Nothing.

Did that mean then that he was born of a power which was already predisposed to evil? These Englishmen said that maids were those most susceptible to turn to their devil, but could it be that it was in face _he_, Clow Reed who was, by nature, the easiest target for wickedness? How far a step was it from darkness to evil: to vice, immorality, and sin? Was it so far a step? There was already a dark shadow upon his heart, and if he did not control it…

He didn't know what cruel things he was capable of.

Darkness. The Power of Darkness.

But there was one other thing that was bothering him: that girl.

Who had she been? He had apologized to her in his dream—apologized for… for killing Yue. Why? Who was she to him? He was quite certain that she was no village girl. There was certainly not a shred of darkness in _her_… A series of knots was unwillingly beginning to tie themselves in Clow's stomach. What was this he was feeling towards her? Jealousy? As if she were some kind of threat to him? He didn't even know her! But why was she associated with Yue, then? He couldn't understand it. Could it be… perhaps…

She was his future wife?

A sudden unwelcome flush shot up into Clow's cheeks, and he was immediately angry at himself for having such a reaction. What should he care? It was a perfectly logical theory: after all, he might be young at the moment, but the fact remained that Yue was still a man… and certainly a…well…_functional one_…

Clow's face began to glow hotter than his pan, and he shamefully hung his head in his hands. Honestly: _**what**_ was wrong with him?

None of that mattered right now, and he really didn't want to think about it anyway! It didn't matter what _had_ transpired in himself or in his household because it would **not** happen ever again. Flipping the last of his cooking onto the little plate, Clow surveyed his work with pride and went to work setting the table. He had made pancakes today—the first time in a long time, and now they were lying in wait for Cerberus,

Along with a much wiser and more personable Clow Reed. The darkness would rule no longer.

…

"Come _on_, Yue! Hurry up!"

Cerberus' high-pitched voice cut across the otherwise silent expanse that was Reed Manor. He was dashing down one of the bottom halls with obvious excitement, a somewhat winded-looking Yue tearing around the corner in his wake.

"I think you've finally gone off your rocker!" the younger mage shouted as he dashed after the bounding lion, trying desperately to catch up. His hair was starting to pull free from his ponytail and a fine rim of sweat was beginning to develop along his brow, but otherwise he was holding his own remarkably well.

"I'm telling you," The beast ahead of him called back, tone full of purpose, "I really saw her this time! I've finally caught her!"

"Caught who!" Yue yelled in return, skidding for a moment as his two legs barely managing to dash around a tight corner which his brother's four sailed around with ease.

"That _girl!_"

The summer had passed quickly in Surrey after the heated events of late June. Autumn too had rushed by in a flurry of laughter and good times, and it was now winter again—nearly New Year, in fact. Whatever strange heat had been passing through the members of the Reed household earlier this year, all of that darkness seemed to have dissipated along with the changing weather. The transformation was incredible. Yue Reed couldn't recall his home being this lighthearted since the first days he had arrived at the Manor: the first days of his life. Clow had grown gentle again as Yue had remembered him in 1681—before the blizzard, before his fever, before Shield… and, before—

Before the thirtieth of June.

Inside, a part of him still squirmed when he thought about the things which had transpired on his birthday many moons ago—about Clow…the position the two of them had been in. (A fresh flush crept into his cheeks even thinking about it now!) Even now he could almost feel the hand caressing his cheek, powerful legs sliding between his thighs—

Anyway! That didn't matter anymore at the moment! The point was: no such…impassioned…happenings had occurred in months. Perhaps it really was the summer heat which had gotten to them back in June, but whatever had transpired, Clow was the picture of a perfect gentleman once more. He even got on well with Cerberus again, which was something Yue hadn't seen since…

Actually, now that he thought about it, he had _never_ seen those to get on so merrily with each other!

Thinking of the lion brought the mage's focus flickering back to the present. His brother had gotten far ahead of him again, and Yue cursed himself for being so inattentive. Biting his lip in frustration, he pushed hard off the wooden floor beneath him and forced his legs to go faster. Cerberus may be leading him on a wild goose chase, but he certainly wasn't going to let him go thundering about the manor on his own. Something about the concept of a simultaneously hyperactive and unsupervised Cerberus made him incredibly nervous (besides that, he was _not_ going to let his sibling outdo him in physical prowess, no matter how much the laws of nature may be biased against him in that endeavor!). Of course, compared to his first year of life the little lion was a great deal less excitable than he had been, but that still left him anything but calm—and anything but reasonable. In fear of utter chaos breaking loose, Yue had generally accepted a policy of never leaving Cerberus by his lonesome for too long.

Perhaps because the last time he'd left an overly-emotional Cerberus on his own, he ran away into a storm?

Something deep within Yue clenched horribly as the notion cut across his mind; he bit his lip harder. He tried not to think about the events of the previous winter in Reed Manor—it had been just over a year since the freak blizzard had struck Lightwater, and the sorcerer had to admit that thoughts of it were fresh on his mind. Things had been so unpleasant between all of them back then: did he really have to dwell on such terrible times? Many things were hazy about the events that had transpired during the last Advent season (for understandable reasons: the trauma of nearly freezing to death certainly being high on that list), but there were several images which stuck out clearly in Yue's mind. One of these was a rather vivid picture of a slightly younger lion cub glaring at him with eyes filled with fire, a face contorted in rage, screeching at him to roll over and die. Yue shuddered within himself: he and Cerberus were on such good terms now; it was almost hard to believe that their healthy sibling rivalry had so recently been something close to hatred. He remembered too the look of horror upon the face of an even smaller creature back on July the first, 1681. This time Yue smiled amusedly at the memory. That had been the first time he'd met his brother: The furry little beast had been on the floor prodding him awake with the end of a broomstick handle. He'd had a bucket on his head too, if the mage recalled correctly, and what had looked like a mismatched pair of Clow's socks—as if that odd array of garments was going to protect him from an attack! Chuckling, he remembered the look on Cerberus's face that morning when Clow had at last introduced them: a look as if he'd just been hit across the face with a blunt object—eyes full of horror, chin dropping in disbelief.

'_**You're**__ the cards' other guardian!'_

"Aha! I've got you now you little wench!"

The sharp, ear-splitting voice of the real Cerberus Reed echoed from somewhere down at the end of the hall and snapped his sibling once more from his reminiscing. The lion was so far ahead of him now that Yue could just barely make out the blur of his orange fur in the distance. Cursing under his breath for his show of negligence, the younger magician bore down and sprinted down the hall until his thighs were burning from the strain. He caught up to his brother's retreating for just as the beast rounded a corner screaming "Gotcha!"

What happened over the course of the next few seconds was extremely disorienting. There was the sound of a loud 'thunk' on the other side of the doorframe, followed by a heavy 'plop' and the noises of several wall ornaments shaking in their places. The next thing Yue knew, he was swimming through a blur of color—spinning through it, actually! There was a wide expanse of cherry brown which whipped up from beneath him, a swirl of candle lit grey, and something bright and orange which flew in many directions across his visual field. Yue felt his hair whip past his face, flying undone as its securing ribbons snagged on something. Everything then got very dark (most likely from the expanse of unplaited ponytail which had just whipped into his face. The mage had a slight sensation of colliding with something soft and fuzzy midair (mid_air_? Why the hell wasn't he on the ground?) and then the much more recognizable experience of hitting the ground—hard. Whatever had happened, Yue landed on his back upon the wood-and-stone floor; he coughed violently, his breath was knocked out of him by the force of impact. Something hot and heavy had crashed on top of him, and was shifting dazedly around somewhere in the region of his abdomen. His hair was still in his face, so the sorcerer had no way of discerning precisely what had transpired.

"Ow." A winded-sounding voice above him coughed lamely. "Well, _that _didn't go as (he paused to cough again)…planned."

The creature laying on him shifted, and the next thing Yue knew, his hair was being parted for him; a pair of golden eyes and wet black nose peered at him through peepholes among the strands. "Hello, beautiful," it cooed cheekily, grinning all the while, "You still alive down there?"

Yue took a moment to gather one more deep breath, then composed himself sarcastically as he could muster. "Hello, Cerberus," he whispered in reply, "I'd be doing a lot better if there wasn't a hundred-pound lion on my chest." The beast's face developed an odd arrangement of features—if he was human, the blond imagined he would have blushed; but one way or another, he did back up apologetically. "So, do you feel like telling me," Yue managed as he gasped greedily at the air, "why exactly we're both lying on the floor—in an empty room?"

"Yeah, you noticed that, did you?" Cerberus responded meekly, his tongue hanging out like a dog as he too panted heavily. He tried to look ashamedly away from his brother's eyes, and began glancing all around the room instead. "Well, I think we kinda crashed into each other…" ("Really?" Yue shot back, his words dripping with so much sarcasm that it might have made a lady blush) "I was sort of expecting to…err…pounce someone, but…clearly there's no one here so…" His voice trailed off and, still with the air of expecting Yue to throttle him right then and there, stuck his tongue out sheepily and rubbed the back of his head. "I think my skull got to know Mr. Wall over there real good."

Dusting his hair back from his face, Yue raised a hand to his temples, shielding his violet eyes from view. For a moment Cerberus bit his lip and prepared for impact, but to his surprise, Yue did not begin to pummel him. Actually, he was _laughing_. "God," the young magician murmured, chuckling even against his heavy breathing, "I'm not even going to _begin_ going into how grammatically incorrect that sentence was!"

Relief appeared to flood the little lion as surely as a dam bursting. Before he knew it, he was laughing as well, and—the both of them giggling at the sheer stupidity of their situation—collapsed exhaustedly back onto his brother's abdomen; the way he'd splayed himself out, he could have been a bear rug. This entire endeavor was so pathetically _pointless_, Yue thought to himself as the beast curled up upon him and the pair began at last to relax and release the breath they'd been holding; it was so comically pathetic that it simply _had_ to be laughed at. Now certain that neither of them was going to be attacked any further, both boys lay themselves flat and gasped freely from all the exertion—all the sprinting!—they had done.

"Your heart's beating so hard!" Cerberus laughed after a few moments filled with the sound of panting and the fog of hot breath. "I can hear it in your belly!" he laughed, nuzzling his head lovingly (and amusedly) somewhere below his brother's diaphragm. Yue flushed immediately, much to the cub's utter delight (he _loved_ shaking up Yue's ever-cool demeanor).

"So is yours," Yue remarked in return, moving to sit up straighter, "And your _feet_ are sweating on me."

"Sorry, they do that," the leonine creature replied merrily, settling himself on the ground as his brother forced himself into a seating position and began scratching his ears; Cerberus purred.

What was unbeknownst to the Reed twins at the time was that they had not, in fact, been entirely on a wild goose chase (as Yue had put it). In fact, the room they were in was not entirely empty either: from a small inlet, right beside the door through which the duo had just dashed, a pair of large wide eyes was surveying the boys with curiosity. Heavy lashes blinked with surprise at the sudden company. A delicate hand brushed back long waves of hair for a better view. It wasn't that she was unaware that there were other beings in this house. She had known passively about the cards' protectors for quite some time now. In fact, she had seen these two on several occasions around the manor, but never so _closely_ before! The older one she was more familiar with: he was long and fuzzy with somewhat scraggly fur of the brightest orange. He was moderately sized—almost as big as she was—but despite his impressive utilities (size, claws, teeth), he was not nearly frightening as she had imagined he would be. Rather, she mused as she watched the beast merrily nuzzle his brother's hand, he seemed much more…affectionate! And as for the younger…

The young woman quickly felt a hot flush rise into her cheeks—into her whole _face!_ The younger one was simply lovely—ethereally so! The small girl suddenly felt awkward and flustered as she stood there watching him. He was _very_ different in appearance from his partner—human, like Clow. He was much slighter than Clow Reed, however: smaller, greener; but even with his youth there was something in this budding beauty which almost intolerably handsome—alluring to an inexperienced maid. He was certainly much more attractive than Fiery, who was the only boy she really knew (Shield, Sword, and Shadow were all masculine, she supposed, but they didn't really seem to qualify as _men_). Feeling a horribly nervous sensation wash over her, the young spirit nonetheless inched a little closer to the scene transpiring in front of her. The lion was purring loudly; he was snuggling up against his brother as the sorcerer carefully rebraided his long strands of silvery hair. (She stared with hypnotic awe as the sparking tresses crossed this way and that.) They were smiling: the feline one broadly, his comrade softly and sincerely. Oh my, the spying being gasped as she peeped on, she felt very strange right now indeed! This never happened around master Clow! She wasn't even all that unfamiliar with Yue either! It wasn't as if she didn't know exactly what the child looked like—or his reputation! She had revealed him to Clow upon request on several times—she knew Clow's feelings towards the young man, his frustrations. But, watching in person, the mage seemed much more… gentle, protecting than she had expected. He was like Shield, actually—very like him: steady and forceful, yet caring and paternal. Perhaps it was because Shield was sealed out of his—

The being suddenly felt her face flush brightest of all. Oh my _my_, this was a very odd predicament! She hadn't been expecting this! Before the girl could contemplate the matter any further, however, she was forced to dive back into the shadows as Yue's fair violet eyes flicked momentarily in her direction. For a few tense minutes, she hung there: pressed against the wall, waiting for the boys to come around the corner and confront her. Yue had seen her—he _must_ have! He seemed to know she was there all along! He could _sense_ her!

…But no encounter came. Opening her tightly-squeezed eyelids, the young woman blinked confusedly as she watched the magician pair easily glide past her and continue down the hall. What was this? Surely she wasn't getting off _that_ easily? She, an invader essentially in their home. She _knew_ that she had not gone unnoticed. As if to prove this point, Yue glance backwards for a moment towards the shadows in which she was hiding. For the space of a heartbeat, she once more felt piercing amethyst irises scanning her figure… but again nothing happened. In the next second, the blond was back listing avidly to his brother's comments, as if he had seen nothing unusual spying on them. The disheveled nymph let out the breath she had been holding and, with the caution of a grazing gazelle, tiptoed silently after the retreating duo before her.

…

"So what is all this about a girl, anyway?" Yue asked as he strode beside his brother back down the hall; the tone of his voice was clearly trying to sound completely casual, but something in it made his companion's ears stand at the alert: he was feigning it. Last December, the lion might have fallen for the ruse too, and believed his sibling's comments to be entirely light-hearted. Yue was a stupendous liar, it was one of his many gifts—he could portray his intentions to be just about anything he fancied if it would solicit the desired response out of his victim: a master manipulator. But this time, Cerberus knew better. A year and a half's experience warned him to the hidden gravity behind his sibling's question—he caught the violet eye lingering just a hair too long on his own; the beast sighed heavily. Yue clearly knew that something was up—damn. He and Clow had tried so hard to keep their…predicament…under wraps. Already, the joy they had shared lying on the floor was beginning to fade as they crossed the threshold. He should have known that dragging Yue into this mess today was going to eventually backfire on him—but he'd just been so sure this time that he would catch her—!

"Well," Cerberus began unsteadily, his gaze decidedly forward and away from his siblings dagger-like stare, "I've been seeing this girl around the manor sometimes—slipping away behind a corner, or wandering about the grounds during snowfall: stuff like that…" His voice trailed off. Perhaps Yue would just let this one go and have pity on him? But even as he thought it, the young lion suspected he would have no such luck. Almost an instant later, he was rewarded:

"…And?" Yue pressed on after a moment's awkward silence. When his sibling still refused to explain himself, the mage ran a frustrated hand quickly through his hair and pushed on forcefully. "Several of the cards are female: perhaps Clow has begun trying to use them and simply hasn't told us yet. And this house _is_ certainly old enough to accommodate spirits, besides. Would it be so unusual to glimpse an unfamiliar woman? I think we can rest assured it's no one from the village…" he let his voice purposefully trail off as he glanced back towards the sulking lion, the intonation left purposefully on a high note. Cerberus was almost disgusted by his cunning: Yue was trying to play innocent—trying to _bait_ him into divulging whatever tidbit of info he was looking for. And, damn him, it was working! The lion bit his tongue in agitation, eyes burning like fire. This was just like the Hawkins thing all over again! Yue couldn't just stand idly by the either, back when Clow had been depressed about losing his friend. He, apparently, simply could not let things go. Damnit, couldn't he at least _pretend_ that all was well with his two housemates and content himself with all the happiness they were enjoying together right now? All the strides forward they'd made? They'd been having such a merry time a few minutes ago…

Cerberus dared a glance into the mage's curious eyes: He knew in his heart that his brother _couldn't_ let this slide. Yue seemed to be completely unable to ignore any kind of discord or disharmony in those around him. He simply couldn't stand knowing that there was another being suffering in his world.

"No," Cerberus agreed solemnly, "It's nothing like that.

"I don't know if it's a card either," he continued before the eager young sorcerer could even begin to goad him further, "If it is, then it's not one I recognize. Light, Dark, Watery, Windy, Wood, Glow… Erase," (he added the jester as an afterthought, recalling that she too had a feminine form beneath all that checkerboard) "Well, they're all pretty distinctive. They're big, tall, kinda" (he mimed the shape of rather exaggerated female breasts on himself) "_voluptuous_. Not this one: this is a young girl—really young. And she's fleeting too, that's why I haven't caught her yet. She keeps hiding in the shadows… just barely unseen. Like she's _watching_ us!"

Yue bit his lip for a moment as Cerberus threw his arms out to exaggerate his final point; the expression didn't go unnoticed. Quizzically, the lion slowly lowered his arms (his sibling seemed not to have even seen) and threw a curious glance at the mage beside him. Now it was _his _turn to be suspicious. Could it be that precious little Yue was hiding something too? The cub regarded his companion with scrutiny: The boy in question had the look on his face that definitely declared deep thinking. One could almost hear the sound of gears whirring away inside his mind. Unfortunately for Cerberus, he wasn't a mind-reader.

Nonetheless, the cub continued to stare at his sibling scrutinizingly: he would be ready if Yue's face betrayed one sign of what he was contemplating. As expected, however, it betrayed nothing, and a split second later he snapped back to reality. "I still fail to see the significance," the young man said at last, throwing his gaze back upon the still-leery Cerberus, "As I've said, we know it can't be a stowaway from the village, so what does it matter if there's a female presence wandering about the grounds?"

For the second time that afternoon, the lion heard himself sigh rather seriously. How could he possibly explain this? Jeez: If he'd known this whole excursion was going to get him _interrogated_—! For a split second he was tempted to round on his nosey brother and shout about perhaps Yue wouldn't take a ghost or other wayward spirit so lightly if he had the ability to see them! (When it came to the spirit world, Yue was about as perceptive as a used fork—he wouldn't see a ghost coming if it tried to strangle him to death!) Given the situation, however, he decided to hold his tongue. Though Yue couldn't sense a spirit a mile away, he was especially perceptive when it came to living, breathing subjects: he would catch Cerberus' evasion. And moreover… it wasn't exactly a _ghost_ that he suspected they might be dealing with here…

They were reaching the entry hall of the manor now, and the cub felt the room suddenly dip several degrees colder. Was that from the winter weather drifting at them from the front doors? Or was this chill more to do with the grievous subject which he knew he was about to breech upon? Swallowing hard, he decided that honesty was probably going to be the best policy here. When he spoke a moment later, his words were soft and barely audible, yet they seemed to echo all throughout the vast hall:

"I thought it might be _that_ girl."

There. He'd said it. He'd done what Yue wanted: he'd spoken the nasty things on his mind. Now he was probably going to get treated like a child again who wasn't yet nearly as wise and all-knowing as his father. As he chanced a look upward at his companion, however, Cerberus was surprised by what he saw. Yue's eyes were not narrowed and sly, but momentarily widened. For a split second in time, the boy's pupils contracted fiercely and a sudden burst of color rushed into his irises. Quickly he saw the warlock glance briefly to the side—as if reminded of something pressing or dangerous lingering just outside their vision. For the space of a heartbeat, Cerberus found himself strangely frightened. As soon as it had come, however, the spell passed. Yue closed his eyes softly, and when he opened them again, they had regained their usual, cool orientation—his entire composure was recollected and once again ready to betray nothing. The lion cub frowned inwardly to himself: jeez, sometimes he really envied Yue's unshakable management skills. But even though the blond's secrets had dove deeply back beneath the surface, his manners _were_ in fact different from earlier.

"Cerberus," he murmured, turning his full attention to the little beast on the floor "Is there another woman… that's been weighing on your mind?"

Momentarily, the elder sorcerer recoiled to the defensive, but an instant later he felt himself begin to relax. There was no threat to him this time. Yue Reed was becoming a very capable magician—_very capable:_ he could solicit damn near any reaction out of people now; he could put them in whatever emotional state he wanted and prod them into revealing their deepest darkest secrets. Yue had always been cerebral, he supposed—always been highly in tune with the concept of emotion. That was why he had been so bothered by Clow's interrogation after the blizzard, he supposed, and it was probably Cerberus' help with goading him into an epiphany that day which had probably allowed him to become the cool, calculating manipulator he could sometimes be now. But whatever his brother was capable of, he was none of those things now. His aggressiveness fading, the cub looked hard into his sibling's eyes. They were not sharp and cold as they had been at the beginning of this conversation: No, now they had turned soft and warm again—like they had been a short time ago when the two of them had been laughing on the floor; they invited him in.

Suddenly the room did not seem nearly as chilly anymore. Allowing a small smile to grace his lips and nodding encouragingly, Cerberus led the pair of them a little further down the hallway where they settled more comfortably on a padded bench. Once they were seated, the lion felt knots begin to retie themselves in his stomach, but he knew that this time he had to press on—had to confess the one blemish he had been seeing on their happiness these past several months. Taking one more glance to the side, he looked solidly at Yue: the mage was sitting silently beside him, head cocked lightly to one side with welcoming curiosity; wispy white tresses were cascading about him, seeming both pure and yet warm in the new candlelight. It was as though that short-lived bit of darkness that had descended upon them in the entrance hall had never existed—the two of them might just have emerged in high spirits from that empty room; from the honesty in his partner's expression, they might have only just returned from their failed manhunt—woman-hunt.

"Yes," he heard himself whisper in agreement, "there is another woman." He paused for a second, briefly, as if expecting Yue to cut in—to comment in understanding or say that he too could relate. But there was nothing. The young mage beside him was simply sitting there listening, avidly. He truly seemed not to know what girl Cerberus was talking about. Could it really be true then, the cub wondered silently in surprise, Could his brother really not have the power?

"She's a young woman," the lion continued on, "very young. More like a girl, actually. Short brown hair, green eyes, some kind of odd association with the color pink…You mean you really haven't dreamt of her?"

The last comment blurted out of him without Cerberus' conscious control; it was filled with much more emotion than the cub would have liked to reveal and he wished almost instantly that he could take it back.

Yue, however, did not seem to be offended. "No…" he murmured quietly, solemnly, "I haven't."

Cerberus let out a tremendous sigh, like a balloon deflating, and threw himself with a plop more comfortably upon the cushions. If there had been a bubble of tension brewing in his belly, it had just completely popped. The pressure was well off him now: it was his brother that was looking pensive. "You haven't had visions of her _at all_?" he inquired with obvious astonishment, "Wow, that's…surprising."

"Is it really?" Yue asked suddenly, slapping Cerberus back into awareness as if the question itself had physically been dropped upon him. He glanced at the agitated boy with an obviously quizzical look. Yue sighed and rubbed his temples, closing his eyes tensely before he spoke again. "Are you really so surprised to learn that I have not seen any of these prophetic visions that are clearly plaguing you and Clow?" He lifted his head and looked the lion straight in the eye, "I mean, I wasn't exactly having visions in my sleep that night we were trapped inside the cave either, was I? It was only _you_ who saw the future then. I was in the exact same conditions and yet my ability to perceive was limited to the walls around me. I think it is fairly clear, Cerberus, that the power to divine the future…

"Is not within me."

Yue's words echoed throughout the room like a booming clap of thunder. Even the candle on the wall behind him seemed to darken its light. Cerberus felt like he'd been hit with a ton of bricks. There it was. Was it really true then? Was it possible that he and his master could foresee warnings or events of the future but Yue could not? "But how could that be?" he knew full well that the words had come out his mouth rather than lying dormant in his mind, but at the moment he didn't care—this matter was too grievous to be kept within him. "We're supposed to be equal in power, aren't we? We're supposed to be partners!" To his own surprise, the cub felt hot tears beginning to well from his eyes, but he didn't have time to care what had provoked them. "_How_ is it possible, Yue? If we're equal in strength, then how is it possible for me to have all these powers that you don't? You can't see the future! You can't see spirits! I don't understand! Is there something wrong with you? Are you hurt or sick or something? Is that why you got so ill after the storm last Christmas? Is this because Clow had so much trouble bringing you to life? Did something go wrong that night because Clow almost failed—or because I tried to interfere!"

"Cerberus!"

The sound of Yue's soft but firm voice broke his rant, and left the cub dissolving into tears, blinking with horrible worry up at his younger brother. Gently, Yue took both of his paws in hand and clasped them lightly to his chest; comfortingly, he pressed his palms against Cerberus' knuckles, and wrapped his long fingers around his brother's furry toes. The little lion could feel the boy's flickering pulse in the nape of his neck—it throbbed slowly and gently, in contrast to the pounding heart that was hammering with apprehension against Cerberus' own ribs. Yue wasn't frightened or worried: on the contrary, he was perfectly calm and collected. The cub felt something inside of him begin to ease simply at the thought. "There is _nothing_ wrong with me," The younger mage whispered soothingly, pale irises locking onto the beast's own.

"But then—!" the creature began frantically, but Yue hushed him with a soft breath.

"I got so ill last January because I was stupid enough to stress myself right when a wave of fever struck the village. Clow had trouble bringing me into this world because my orientation towards the lunar sign makes me a great deal more dependent on support from him—the moon needs _some_ initial light to shine more of it, after all. And if our master nearly failed that night, then he clearly managed to patch it all up because

"I am _fine_, Cerberus." Yue's gaze was so deeply locked onto his sibling's now that it had almost become hypnotic. Cerberus simply _couldn't_ look away. He felt the mage's hands tighten around his own. "I can assure you everything is in the right place, and everything is functioning properly. I'm not broken and decrepit. I've not been left with some… some chronic disease if you like. My powers aren't weaker than yours, Cerberus, they're just simply…

"Simply different."

For a moment longer, the little lion lingered there: gazing deeply into his brother's kind eyes, feeling his tears begin to ebb away. He smiled and, a second later, let his paws slide back from beneath Yue's grasp and back onto the cushions below. "Thanks, Yue," he muttered genuinely (inwardly, he flinched at the thought of actually giving in and _thanking_ his brother for something, but this was not the time for petty sibling rivalry). He giggled slightly to himself: Yue really _did_ always know the right thing to say. It was just as he'd been musing earlier: that boy could put you in whatever state of mind he wanted—which this time just happened to include taking much-needed pity. "I guess you really are a mind reader," the cub chuckled merrily to himself. Yue raised a notoriously pale eyebrow so high that it almost disappeared beneath shaggy, overlong bangs. (This only resulted in Cerberus having to bite down on his tongue harder to contain his laughter.)

"Nothing; it's nothing," he chortled in reply to his sibling's questioning stare, "I was just thinking about a few of those… differences."

Piercing violet eyes scanned him with scrutiny once more, but Cerberus simply could not, for some reason, keep himself from grinning. This just went on to prove his point then, didn't it? Even with something so simple as this, clearly Yue wasn't going to accept anyone's motives at face value. Poor paranoid little thing—he was too deep into everyone else's heads to trust an innocent laugh. Seriously: this humble lion was a simple creature—and Yue was almost _too_ cerebral! Whatever was flying through the young mage's mind, after a few tense seconds he seemed to decide that even if his brother _was_ keeping some kind of joke to himself, it wasn't anything particularly insulting to his character. He shook his head slightly, gaze softening again—as if he were a father faced with a youthful and naive child (OK, now it was Cerberus' turn to suspect that he was the brunt of a silent joke!).

"Whatever you say, Cerberus," he whispered in reply—if the beast didn't know better, he would have guessed that there was _amusement_ in his voice. Wait…had he missed something here? He didn't have a real chance to contemplate this, however; in the next instant, Yue took a shaky breath and turned more seriously towards him once more, "So, since I'm clearly the one in the dark here, why don't you tell me more about this girl you've been seeing? When did it start?" His tone was once again much graver, and Cerberus could almost feel the weight of the looming darkness turning in on them again. There was something different this time, however: Yue's manner might have been serious, but there was still something like compassion in his eyes. He was waiting patiently for his companion to answer, as if he knew that the topic was difficult for him to breech. The large cat sighed, and blinked up at his companion's face. The mage was still sitting calmly and serenely—they might have been talking about the weather!—he was clearly trying to be supportive of the nest of troubles that had been weighing in the back of the cub's mind.

"It started back in July," Cerberus muttered at last, talking decidedly towards his paws (he almost wished he had thumbs to twiddle), "I had a nightmare then, and…she appeared towards the end of it. I don't remember much of what happened before…"

This was a lie of course: Cerberus Reed knew full well what had happened in the first part of his dream. Even now, almost six months later, he could just barely draw images to his mind from that terrible vision. Greyish, dusty land. A vast, elaborate estate. A much older version of himself—curled mane, groomed fur, handsomely clothed. The both horribly beautiful and terrifyingly mutilated form of the future Yue…Shuddering, he heard the broken sorcerer's soft, furious voice echo to him even out of his memories:

'_I told you never to come here!'_

'_You could have caught a glimpse of the number your precious highborn brats did to my insides.'_

'_You thought I got to bear all the suffering for this family?'_

"Cerberus?"

Blinking stupidly, the furry beast felt his self-absorbed bubble pop. For a split second longer, he felt the intensely burning gaze of that deathly beauty, but it was quickly replaced by a pair of much younger eyes. He was back at the manor and the more familiar stare of Yue's pale irises had fallen upon him—alight with obvious concern. He must have gotten more absorbed in his old nightmare than he'd realized.

"Sorry," Cerberus mumbled, "Guess my mind was elsewhere for a sec."

"Doesn't look like it went anywhere pleasant either," Yue commented in reply, but (to his partner's relief!) he didn't press the matter any further. Instead he leaned back and, breathing heavily, pressed on as if nothing had happened. "So, tell me where this girl came into your nightmare. Did you get to see her properly? Did you sense anything from her?"

Still slightly shaken by the sudden spell that had overtaken him, Cerberus nonetheless bit his lip in contemplation as he tried to recall the latter part of his nightmare properly (extremely glad of the topic change). "No," he admitted somewhat guiltily, "I didn't really get a clear look at her, I guess.

"She was more like a specter," he continued, truly wracking his brains now to remember. Concentrating (for once), he tried to let the images of that night overtake him; slowly, the scene of pink petals began to reconstruct itself in his thoughts. "For some reason, she was kind of blurry and indistinct…Almost like I could see her, but my brain didn't want to pay attention to the details. Like she was someone I already knew."

"'Already knew'?" Yue repeated with disbelief; not wanting to break his focus, Cerberus nodded.

"Yeah," he muttered as he continued to let the images flood him, "that's certainly how it felt in the dream. I thought that I knew her _really_ well then; now…

"I haven't got a clue." He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to readjust to the candle light. Yue's brow furrowed with puzzlement, and there was an audible pause where he was apparently mulling all this over. Cerberus, positively tense with apprehension now that he had started telling his tale, watched him eagerly. When the mage spoke again, his voice was smooth and gentle.

"Can you remember anything else about her at all?" he asked cautiously. Hesitating just an instant, slowly Cerberus nodded.

"She wasn't very old," he reminisced, "I don't have much experience with humans and the aging process, but she certainly didn't look any older than you do now." As he spoke this last, his golden eyes made a rather large to-do of scanning Yue up and down with a critical eye. A brilliant flush immediately shot into the young sorcerer's cheeks and he tried to throw his hair into his face to hide his shame. To Cerberus's amusement, this resulted in what the lion could see of his brother suddenly looking comically like a peppermint candy: white stripes over a very red surface! Unable to hold his humor back, the little cub couldn't resist a good snicker on pale boy's behalf. Pondering that an irate Yue was probably the last thing he needed on his hands right now, however, he bit his tongue and forced himself to resume his more-serious demeanor. "She had kind of strange hair too," he commented as Yue peeked back up at him through his bangs (curiosity apparently winning out over embarrassment). "It was just your standard light brown color, but it was pretty short, I thought. Heck, most of the _men_ around here probably have longer hair than she did!"

"Was she foreign?" Yue offered, at last looking his companion full in the face again.

Cerberus paused for a moment, turning it over in his mind. She _was_ foreign—he knew that from the strange way she had talked—but he couldn't really remember that bit clearly. English was the only language the cub knew—the only he had ever known—and try though he might, the alien words which had echoed through his dreamscape simply would not come to him. It was like trying to hold water in one's hands. "I don't know," the creature murmured honestly, "She _looked_ English enough, except perhaps that her hair was a bit straighter than most girls here—although," he added, looking wearily at the long tresses cascading about Yue's shoulders, "_You're_ living proof that not all Anglos have curls," (For the second time that day, the young mage turned a brilliant shade of vermillion.) "But, I actually _was_ wondering if she was foreign. She kept calling me something—something strange—and she shouted at me towards the end, but…

"But I couldn't catch it."

Yue bit his lip contemplatively as Cerberus' sheepy confession rang across the silence between them. Something had suddenly caught his interest though the little lion couldn't begin to imagine what it was. When the boy spoke next, it was slowly and purposefully; "Is that normal for you, Cerberus?" he asked quietly, "Do you normally hear other languages spoken in your visions?"

If Cerberus had been graced with eyebrows, he was pretty sure that one of them would have been shooting upwards just that second. For a second time he gawked at his sibling in utter bewilderment. Here Yue was, willingly admitting to not have the power to see visions, and yet—and yet time and time again asking just the questions he and Clow had been turning over since summer! There was definitely a major inconsistency here! He eyes Yue suspiciously out of the corner of his vision—as if he was suddenly expecting the mage to confess himself a great seer after all and make some divine prophesy here in the hall! No such thing happened of course. Damn. That would have been cool. So the cub merely continued to glance warily at his brother. Again, precisely as Yue was implying, he of course usually heard his foretelling dreams in English—regardless of what language was actually being spoken. This young girl was the exception, for every time he saw her in either daydream or nightmare, she was always called him by the same strange phrases: 'Kero-chan, Kero-chan, shikkarishite'. Somehow, this mysterious woman could defy all of his usual powers.

Only a few seconds had passed in real time (outside of Cerberus's thoughts—which Cerberus himself, mind, maintained was much more a much more fun reality to gage by anyway), and Yue was only just now noticing the leery and introspective look about the little lion's face. "Cerberus?" he murmured worriedly—again, for the second time that evening (were they stuck in a loop or something?).

Cerberus blinked, pretending to have just snapped out of some kind of meditative stupor (he actually only succeeded in making himself look completely mad for an instant, but since it _was_ Cerberus, Yue wrote this off without question). In truth he was buying himself one more moment to decide what he should do about his oddly insightful brother. Biting his lip, he decided that there were a few details that the young blond didn't particularly need to know. "Sorry, he muttered at last, "I was just thinking for a second: you're right, it's _not_ normal, actually. Usually if someone's speaking another language in my visions, I hear it translated." What he didn't tell his brother was that Yue had in fact _proven_ this statement, in a way, earlier in his nightmare. They—in their future forms—had, after all, spent most of the time conversing angrily in Chinese. Hell, part of him actually wised that he hadn't been able to understand _that_ particular discourse either (if part of his dream had to sound foreign to him, anyway). With a sinking feeling somewhere deep in his breast, he _truly _wished he hadn't been able comprehend those morbid words that the future Yue had hissed at him…

He also chose not to disclose, for the second time (there was that loop again) that he _did_ in fact know some of the things he had heard from the mysterious girl, and some of the other sights he had experienced as he was falling through petals away from her. There was still something odd going on around here. Not that long ago, the cub admitted to himself, he had been mentally praising Yue for his incredible intuition (what would one day even be called _telepathic_ intuition, once that word was coined), but could he really write off all of his sibling's surprisingly insightful questions just now as merely a product of his empathy? On the other hand, the beast couldn't think of a single reason for Yue to lie about the extent of his powers: if he secretly did have the power to see the future like he and their master, then why should he hide it? What purpose could it possibly serve? And moreover, if Yue _did_ have some unknown forecasting power, then why _had_ he not (under the same circumstances) not had visions of their doom in the cave as Cerberus had done? And to be honest, the lion mused, the young mage seemed to be genuinely in the dark about all of this mysterious girl nonsense.

No, it wouldn't make sense for Yue to be a fortune teller as well—as the boy himself had said: he and Cerberus were of completely opposite signs; their powers, their talents, their temperaments had been completely inconsistent with each other in every other respect.

But the fact did remain: Yue was definitely hiding something!

The mage in question (who had apparently either not noticed his companion's momentary break back into inside his own mind, or else had cunningly _pretended_ not to have noticed) drew the cub's thoughts back to the present, his words cutting curtly across the expanse between them like a sharpened sword point. "You and Clow," the boy whispered, as Cerberus shook himself (for what felt like the millionth time) back into focus, "The two of you started dreaming of this girl on the same day?" his tone was one of approaching finality: as if he was just tying up one last loose end in his head where this whole matter was concerned.

"Yes," the cub replied, still suspicious, but nonetheless glad that this discussion of theirs was probably at last coming to a close. "and several times now afterwards. And," he pressed further, trying to help his brother bring this whole afternoon into a harmonious close, "it was about that time that I started to notice this other wench sneaking about the manor, so…"

"So you started hunting her down to see if they were the same woman," Yue finished hurriedly for him, "Yes, I see." Cerberus noticed him once again glance momentarily to the side, as if something over there had just returned to his attention. But there was something else in their presence that the lion was becoming increasingly aware of, so he decided not to press the matter.

"You happy now?" he asked instead, sarcastically as he could muster (anxious as he was now for Yue to just let this whole affair fall by the wayside). Sighing heavily, Yue stood.

"I suppose so," he said softly—as he and Cerberus faced each other, the lion was sure more than ever that he could hear the sound of gears whirring just behind his eyes. For a second, utter silence consumed the spade between them. The small beast perked up curiously (forgetting the thing that was nagging at the edges of his enhanced feline senses); Yue bit his lip: he seemed to be considering revealing something more, something which was clearly distressing him. "Just promise me something," he muttered. Cerberus met his gaze for a fraction of a second, trying (even if unwisely) to urge his brother into divulging whatever was weighing so grievously on his mind. For an instant, agitated violet met welcoming gold. Then Yue immediately shattered this contact; he looked away from his brother for a moment, and when he looked back it was with the mask of a playfully haughty gaze. "Promise me you won't send me crashing into any more empty rooms."

For an instant, Cerberus was utterly stunned by the sudden change of seriousness, but he managed to crack a weak smile all the same. "Yeah yeah", he murmured.

Laughing softly, the young sorcerer turned down the hall towards the grand staircase which would lead back up to their shared bedroom. "Aren't you coming?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the still-seated lion.

"Yeah, in a bit," the creature replied. His partner looked at him strangely but (again: almost expecting illogical oddities from his brother) said nothing on it as he turned back to head down the hall alone. "Oh, and Yue!" Cerberus shouted to his roommate's retreating form once the boy in question was a short distance away. An evil idea had just come to him: if Yue wanted to play secrets, then he would be more than happy to oblige. "You should probably know that: the girl in my dreams? Well, she was carrying a staff." He watched as his brother paused and once more looked back at the cub across the yards of dark space that spanned between them. Even from this distance, he could almost feel the suspicion and curiosity now radiating off the young blond. The tables had turned (Cerberus laughed): now Yue knew that he wasn't the only one who knew more than he revealed. "She's a magician, Yue—a wizardess," he yelled enticingly, "just thought you should know."

Through the length between them, he saw the figure nod—they were too far apart for Cerberus to read his face; then, in a moment, he was gone.

Silence echoed throughout the hall for a moment—the space of several tense heartbeats passed before Cerberus was sure his brother was gone. Remaining tense for one moment longer, he leaned forward a little to peer down the hallway and assure that he was alone: alone with the nagging smell that had been bothering him. Sighing (everyone had been sighing today! Gosh! Was it a full moon or something!), he allowed himself to slump more comfortably upon the bench cushions : there was no need to keep up appearances anymore—not for _this_ company!—he might as well relax. "So," he commented sardonically toward the stink of unexpected human that was wafting at his leonine nose from around the corner, "How much did you hear?"

* * *

_AN: Look, mom! I can write a cliff-hanger! No I really can't. XP The cliff-hanger was an accident: this chapter ended up being way longer than I intended. To those who have been watching my fic status/chapter summaries on my profile page: no, this is far earlier than I intended to cut it, but the word count simply would have been too long otherwise. So now the last bit of this scene will overflow into next chapter (so next chapter will abruptly jump from December 1682 to late spring/early summer 1683... ah well. :3). There was a card supposed to be sealed at the end of this last scene, but obviously the scene isn't over, so... I guess you guys will get to see 2 cards sealed in ch 16! :D Chapter 16 will be a whole lot of fluff by the way, which should be a nice refresher for all of us (me too) from all of the dark themes we've had these last few chapters. The identity of the young girl who was spying on Yue and Cerberus was supposed to be revealed too, but again: ran out of space. She'll get her big reveal near the beginning of next chapter (after this long scene finally closes), but I will tell you that she *is* a card despite Cerberus' assertion otherwise. That's why Yue can see her, and didn't confront her (since he can't see spirits, he knew she had to merely be a card and therefore not a threat). Also, for those who hadn't guessed it: yes, the reason Yue is asking Cerberus all those questions about foreign girls and foreign languages in his nightmare is because of the fever dreams he had of Sakura (though he doesn't know that) a few chapters ago. Apparently even magicians without the power to see the future can have second sight if their brains are scrambled enough... I sure hope that loophole doesn't cause anything to happen to poor Yue's brains next chapter... ):D (Oh, and bonus points to anyone who can identify what the deal was with Yue's wings in Cerberus' vision. No, he wasn't mutillated actually, it was perfectly natural, though Cerberus obviously didn't know that! XD)_


	16. Daydreams and Nightmares: Part 2

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

**Part Four: Card Games**

"So," Cerberus commented seemingly out of the blue, "How much did you hear?"

Not at all to his surprise, a rather disheveled-looking wizard bumbled out from around the nearest corner. The lion rolled his eyes as he watched the man stumble about, shoving his glasses rather unceremoniously back onto his face. While it was true that Clow Reed was looking ever more dismal by the day (in comparison to the grandeur he had enjoyed in June), he looked particularly shabby as he bobbled awkwardly out of his hiding place. His cloak was dirty and wrinkled now from having been scrunched up beneath him on the floor all this time, and his hair was full of nervous sweat and flying everywhere. His glasses were not only smudged, the cub couldn't help but notice, but also soaking wet; the red, puffy quality of his eyes beneath betrayed exactly why. "Long enough," the man murmured in reply, voice still thick with emotion: it cracked slightly when he spoke. Cerberus had known his master was there for the entire latter half of the discussion: the smell of hot sweaty human had been engulfing his feline nose—and it definitely couldn't have been Yue! But it was clear now, by the ruddy, saltwater-strewn look to Clow's face that he had been hiding in that corner much longer—probably suffering through quite an emotional display in strained silence. As he slid onto the empty seat on the bench, Cerberus almost felt sorry for him:

Almost.

"You're _so_ lucky I managed to keep all of Yue's attention on me!" the cub sighed in agitation, "He could have _sensed_ you!"

"I was masking my aura," Clow replied sniffing hard as he halfheartedly attempted to wipe the smudges off his lenses with the back of his sleeve.

"Wouldn't have mattered!" the lion laughed crudely—he loved proving to the 'all powerful' Clow Reed exactly how little (as Cerberus perceived) he knew about his sons, "You _can't_ mask yourself from Yue—trust me! I've tried! Let's face it: his powers of sensing are a lot stronger than ours!"

For a moment, the older sorcerer looked surprised: either stunned by the pompous tone of his cub's voice, or by the sheer idea that Yue could be so powerful in a way that he neither knew of nor could surpass. His stunned expression quickly faded away, however, and was soon replaced by one of sorrowing melancholy. "I wouldn't be surprised if Yue proves superior to his master in a number of ways…" he muttered. Cerberus knew full well that they weren't talking about supremacy in terms of magical power. Clow had been like this a lot lately: gloomy, self-insulting. He was a completely different picture from the lustful, hubristic man that had threatened to overtake his being several months ago, but nor was he exactly the proud and confident playmate the cub had known in his youth. Honestly: wasn't there a middle ground with this guy? The beast felt the urge to sigh coming over him again, but he resisted it—there were too many people sighing disheartenedly around here, damnit! This all somehow had to do with Yue, and Cerberus was well aware of it. Internally, the creature swore to every divine appendage he could think of—when he'd warned Clow to keep his hands off the boy, this wasn't what he had in mind! Whether he liked it or not, this new policy of hiding and repressing wasn't going to bode well for his brother's heart either! Patiently as he could muster, the lion waited for his companion to spit out whatever the _hell_ was eating at him this time. After what felt like an eternity, the man at last found his voice again—or found _a _voice, rather, because when he spoke it scarcely sounded like the Clow Reed Cerberus had come to know. His words were shaking with such bottled-up emotion that it almost it almost didn't sound like English. "I think Yue has quite a higher opinion of me than I do," he whispered, "I-I heard those things he said about… about the night he was born."

He was clearly trying to find a nicer way of saying 'that night back in June of '81 when all hell broke loose', which is incidentally how Cerberus would have described the ordeal. (Unconsciously, one of his paws raised up to rub the back of his head, where the curious phantom pain of his skull colliding with a boulder was lightly throbbing—apparently even _remembering_ can hurt!*) But he was aware of exactly what his master was implying: he was referring to Yue's words of comfort earlier when Cerberus himself had been upset. Yue had praised Clow's skill that night for being able to successfully bind him to this mortal coil—difficult procedure as Yue's birth had been. Interiorly, he knew that there was truth to his brother's little speech: requiring as much energy as the moon does, it took great skill to pull off what this wizard had done that lone-ago eve. But all the same, he certainly wasn't going to concede that private sentiment to Clow—not yet. Clow had more in the way of proving himself before Cerberus would publically pledge his trust back in the man! "Yeah, Yue's like that," he commented, at last deciding on a casual—but not unfriendly—tone, "I never know what to make of him: acts like he's got a stick up his arse most of the time, but then he gets downright cuddly whenever the occasion calls. He's a plushie trying to pretend he's got fangs or something!"

Clow laughed lightly, trying (and failing) to discreetly brush away the fresh tears which had leapt to his eyes. "An interesting analogy," he chuckled, "but accurate.

"I notice you didn't tell him about the rest of the symbolism that's been haunting us," he added more seriously, after blowing his nose hard into his handkerchief. As the words were uttered, Cerberus could have sworn he felt the air around him suddenly become much chillier again; a new and improved shiver was beginning to snake its way up his spine. It seemed somehow darker now too, as if the night had suddenly rushed in upon them to match the darkening of his master's tone. Whatever warmth Yue's presence had brought him, it had abruptly been extinguished like a doused candle in his absence.

The lion shook his head dismally in response to Clow's observation, "You mean the flowers and the pink? No," he admitted, "I didn't figure he needed to know that bit: after all, it's not like Yue can see visions. The only reason he's poking his nose into this whole affair at all is because he's worried about us…" But Cerberus voice failed him before he could finish his solemn contemplation. Actually—bizarrely—he was suddenly filled with the insane desire to laugh! Why, he thought wildly to himself, should Yue ever feel the need to worry about _them_!? It wasn't as if this entire year-and-a-half of their existence together had been rife with internal conflict, or anything! Every second of the day, no less! So much sarcasm filled his inner monologue that it should have started excreting out of his pores—wherever the hell he may have had those! (Of course, if excessive cynicism could really be excreted through the skin, Yue would be walking with a trail of it behind him at all times. On the other hand, perhaps that was what made his skin so radiant: constant sarcasm moisturizer!) "By the way," the beast added; the mad humor bubbling up in his belly had given him newfound levity to contest the creeping darkness—for the first time that evening, he felt like he could look his companion straight in the eye. "I assume you've found something on those weird petals? I can't imagine what else would bring you by this side of the manor at such an odd hour."

It wasn't terribly late in the evening yet—the sun had only just set a short while ago—but silently the both of them knew exactly what the cub meant by this comment. More so than ever, Clow was becoming infamous these days for spending a disproportionate amount of time lurking—hiding—around his personal chambers in the upper west wing. The Reed brothers still saw him regularly in central-house locations like this entrance hall, of course, but often only at times when his presence would be specifically expected; he would never miss breakfast with Cerberus, for example. He hadn't been to the east wing in months.

Clow tried to crack a smile—he partially succeeded. "Couldn't it be that I'm just over here to see my sons?" he asked weakly. When he met with Cerberus' unamused stare, however, the sorcerer immediately dropped his attempt at humor. "Yes, I found something," he replied, serious once more, "well, sort-of." He reached with one hand beneath his cloak and withdrew what looked like an old and tattered leather-bound tome.

"A _book_," Cerberus chortled, only half sarcastically, "are you sure this isn't more Yue's speed than mine?"

"You'll like this one," Clow chuckled in return as he carefully opened the beaten cover and began to flick through pages, "it has pictures."

This time the lion laughed genuinely; for the first time in quite a while, he found himself scooting a little closer to the sorcerer for a better look. Clow was flipping through pages with a zealous fury: he appeared to know what he was looking for, but (in his excitement perhaps) hadn't marked the exact page. From what Cerberus could see of the text as it flicked by, it seemed to consist of quite a lot of plant illustrations. Well, the man _had_ said there were pictures! Nevertheless nosy, the cub leaned over and peeked at the leather binding, thinking the title might give him some idea to what he was looking at here. Unfortunately, it wasn't much help at all—not necessarily because the gold, embossed words down the spine were vague or meaningless. Hell, they could have been the meaning of life for all the beast knew! No: not much help because it was written in what he strongly suspected was Chinese.

"Clow," the little lion inquired curiously, "What exactly is this book? The binding looks English enough, but the text…"

"Yes," Clow murmured as he searched, "I suppose you could say that this is a bit of a 'hand-penned' tome," he paused a moment to glance up at Cerberus—who didn't seem to be any more enlightened!—and added sheepily: "I believe it is a travel journal of Chinese flora that Xavier Reed created on his trip through Asia."

"_Xavier_ Reed!" the lion exclaimed suddenly, unable to contain himself. He recognized that name alright! And how could he not, living here in the manor as he was! "You mean," he shouted eagerly, "your—!"

"Yes," Clow cut across him curtly. Cerberus fell silent immediately: his master's tone had not been unkind, but it had rung with a certain finality. At once the beast cursed himself for being so overexcitable: he should know by now that Clow's parentage was a touchy—and rarely discussed topic; he hung his head in shame. The wizard beside him drooped for a moment too, and paused in his page-turning—perhaps ashamed of his behavior as well (In his mind, Clow cursed himself, much as Cerberus was doing, for being so quickly emotive—_he_ who was trying to make amends, and here he was rounding on his innocently curious son). Whatever had passed over them at the mention of Xavier's name, however, was brushed over quickly enough. With the air of trying to be apologetic, Clow cleared his throat lightly, and turned his book for the cub to see. "Here we are," he murmured awkwardly, but nonetheless kindly (he was clearly still embarrassed about his outburst a moment ago, but Cerberus didn't press him about it), "take a look at _that_!" He pointed triumphantly at the open page in front of him. The little beast peeked at the images: the region Clow had indicated was emblazoned by what looked like an array of hand-painted flowers surrounded by lines upon lines of strange text. Intrigued, he ignored the foreign writing entirely and stared at the delicate, pastel blooms with both great scrutiny and great anticipation; where knots had been tying themselves earlier, his stomach was beginning to tingle with what felt like a rabble of butterflies the longer he gazed at the image. Slowly, a grin slipped onto his face. The blooms in the picture were small and delicate: they had been arranged artistically on a small, dark branch of tree; their tiny faces were covered with a black circle of stamens, and their soft petals were a wonderfully familiar pink color.

"Hey!" The beast exclaimed, his voice cracking for the burst of joy which had just overcome him, "that's pretty close!"

"But not an exact match?" Clow asked, his tone completely unreadable. Cerberus glanced in his direction: the older man didn't look particularly angry, but he was very carefully masking his emotions—as if he was waiting for some sort of reaction from the little lion before he betrayed his true feelings.

Alright. He would play this wizard's game. "No," Cerberus replied quickly (still eyeing his companion suspiciously: Clow was up to something) "But it's really close—_damn _close! What is it?"

This time, Clow smiled, and the cub felt the butterflies in his belly begin to flutter even harder with excitement. So he _did_ have something then! This tricky magician _did_ have something else up his sleeve! The delight bubbling up in the little beast was almost too much to be contained, but he had to wait for Clow! When the man spoke again, his young companion hung on his every word. "It is," Clow answered coolly, "the blossoms of a fruit-bearing cherry tree."

On the words 'fruit-bearing', he placed a lavish amount of emphasis, and his dark eyes sparkled with a wild, scheming glee. Cerberus eyed him slyly: there was more to this story then, was there? What juicy detail could Clow Reed possibly be hiding? Seeing the lion's obvious interest, the sorcerer grinned even more broadly, then added smugly: "there _is_ another species of the plant, however.

"There is also a fruitless variety, you see," he explained, "Which has slightly different—as I understand it: _daintier_—blooms."

The hopeful atmosphere between the two magicians had reached its most fervent pitch; even the room around them suddenly felt warm and inviting again. They had something! They really had something! The little cub rejoiced within himself: At last! At _last_! At long last they _finally_ had an answer about this girl! But even as the younger of the two men thought he might burst out singing, his companion on the bench quickly seemed to become somber. "Unfortunately," the magician whispered, popping Cerberus' bubble of happiness as quickly as it had been born, "unfortunately that's where my information stops: the plant _does_ grow in some parts of the Chinese countryside, but it seems my father never encountered it; there is no further entry.

"_And_ unfortunately," he continued, even more gravely, "I'm afraid the _reason_ he never encountered it… was because he met my mother." As if someone had doused them both with ice water, the darkness of the night immediately swept in and consumed the two sorcerers once more. There was a definite sadness in Clow's speech now—he didn't need Yue to tell him _that_. Cerberus felt his heart sink at once; finding his voice again, the elder man pressed on—almost painfully so! "Xavier—my father, went to China in the first place just to study eastern magic. And he had no idea," the sorcerer laughed tragically, "what he was getting into!" There was an odd mix of features now arranging themselves on the magician's face as he angrily spat his last comment. Why, the man had a look about him which suddenly betrayed fury—contempt! Speaking of his history, Clow almost looked as if someone was forcing him to swallow a great deal of bile. If the air had felt chilly before, it now felt like ice water.

"He journeyed across the entire Asian continent to meet with my mother's family—the Li Clan of outer Mongolia—because he had heard them called the most powerful in the land. The fool." Here Clow paused, and—with his son looking concernedly on—sighed somewhat frustratedly. All the same, Cerberus couldn't help but feel entranced by his words: he had never heard his master speak of his family or his childhood abroad. The subject had always seemed taboo somehow; all of his knowledge of Clow Reed began on the 20h of June, 1681. Indeed, it seemed his master held a certain animosity for his late father which Cerberus could not begin to comprehend. But whatever was weighing on the frazzled wizard, he forced himself to press further into his story; the lion listened with rapture as he continued—he had confidence that there was a reason (one related to their female problem, he was sure) that Clow was now being so vocal about all of this. "Xavier was refused by the Li elders: they told him that they would never reveal their cherished arts to a pitiful foreigner—most especially one who, as they saw it, was little more than a spoiled prince. The prestige of the Reed family meant nothing to those pompous… wicked-men… and they certainly had no respect for its now sole heir: Xavier who was world renown for inheriting his fortune and never having worked a day in his life. (How that was any different from the lot of _them_," Clow added with derision, "I'm not entirely sure!)

"But there was one person who was smitten by Xavier," the wizard continued, seeming unable to stop speaking now that he had started (a fact which Cerberus was taking grateful advantage of), "the clan's own heiress, Li Chen: my mother. Supposedly they fell in love. I never met my father, so I don't know if that is true or not… but it's always how my mother told the story. She had them married somewhat unscrupulously by a local Manchu village man. One way or another, I think my very existence must prove something… and when the elders discovered that Xavier had lain with their precious heiress, they drove him out of the country before he could ever finish his survey of the East. He must never have reached the coastal regions where the fruitless cherry grew plentifully, and he certainly couldn't have seen one in the village of Fai.

"Nothing much grows in that town but corruption," he finished darkly, "what they call 'tradition'."

As Clow's voice fell into silence, his utterances continued to echo in the space around them. Corruption. Tradition. The words bounced around on the walls until they sounded like one and the same. The air in the entry hall had become leaden now, and the candle on the wall behind them had sunk so low in its wax that the tiny flame almost appeared dead. But it did not go out. Candles never did seem to go out in Reed manor unless done so by a purposeful hand. It was something Cerberus Reed had never noticed before; but with all that his master had just said to him, it hardly seemed a matter of interest now. For the first time in a long time, the beast truly felt the power of darkness descending upon him. Could it be that this evil in his house would never be defeated? Were they doomed for all eternity to be stalked by it? But it was somehow fitting that the atmosphere around them should grow this cold: after all, this was not a happy thing they were discussing here. Though they had both spared each other the most gory details of their summer nightmares, both Clow and Cerberus knew full well that it was no joyous occasion which had allowed them to first see this young woman they had been dwelling on. True, whoever this pink cherry-blossom child was, she personally appeared to be anything but threatening… and yet…

And yet that which she represented was perhaps the most terrifying concept of all! A woman: a woman with whom both he and Yue were apparently very closely connected—and yet not to Clow. How could it be possible, when things were finally getting better in the Reed household, that they should see themselves being loved by anyone other than Clow? The little lion knew well what his master feared of her: he had seen in his vision a connection between this pink girl and Yue; and here in the 17th century, there was usually only one logical explanation for why a young man would be close to a young lady. Cerberus sighed to himself. But could she really be Yue's future bride? Something about that didn't quite seem right to the leonine creature. After all, he hadn't seen her reaction to his brother in the dream, but he _had_ been filled with the sense that he and this female were very close.

And not in the way of some estranged sister-in-law: more like a best friend. Who _was_ she?

"I'm sorry, Cerberus," Clow's weak voice rung out through the void. The horrible spell had been broken, and at once all of the lion's thoughts fell heavily upon his father beside him. "I suppose I never talk about my life back in Fai—back in China much…"

Cerberus himself laid his head wearily on his master's lap. It had been an exhausting evening. He didn't want to ride this emotional carriage ride (rollercoasters hadn't been invented yet) any longer. Clow absentmindedly scratched his ears and the overgrown cat was overwhelmed with the urge to start purring again—as he had been when Yue had petted him earlier. Yue… "Hey, Clow?" the lion began timidly; he hated to break up their settling peace, but the mention of his brother had just brought something to mind.

"Hmm?" Clow hummed in reply, continuing to massage the cub's fuzzy head.

Taking a deep breath, the young feline continued as lightly as he could: "Did you by chance say that your mother's name was Chen? Chen Li?"

Clow's hand paused for a moment, and he threw Cerberus an odd—but not unkind look. "Yes," he answered slowly, "that's correct."

The beast swallowed hard. He had made the connection with the name 'Li' long ago, back in the summer when he and Clow had first discussed their nightmares; besides, he had thought, what are the chances that he would dream of a random family in China _other_ than Clow's? But he had never heard the wizard mention his mother's name before, and now that he had, it sounded eerily familiar. As if on cue, the future Yue's cruel voice filtered into his mind:

"_Chen, come see: it's the Elders' favorite lapdog!"_

Chen. The woman that had been there with Yue… her name had been Chen. And they had been on the Li family estate…!

"She," he murmured again—even more carefully this time, "Chen I mean. Your mom. She's…uh… not still alive by any chance, is she?"

Clow blinked down at him. "Alive and well last I saw," he responded with obvious surprise, "hardly aged a day from back when Xavier knew her, actually; the advantages of powerful magic, I suppose."

Cerberus was almost waiting for a 'why do you ask?' to be added to the end of that sentence. Any second now… but to his surprise, it never came. Despite his obvious curiosity, Clow had decided to let the matter lie. Perhaps, the cub thought uneasily, he had already deduced (deduced: that was a big word he'd heard Yue use the other day) based upon what he knew of Cerberus' nightmare that he had seen Li Chen. But if so, why was he keeping quiet?

The creature sighed—he wondered vaguely how many more sighs he had in him. "This is quite a mess we've gotten ourselves into," he remarked tiredly, "isn't it?"

Clow snorted amusedly in reply, "Cerberus, you have a gift for understatement," he grumbled as he continued to scratch the best's ears. "But, you're right of course: Gods, can we not simply let ourselves be happy?"

Cerberus let out something halfway between a laugh and a hiss, "Isn't _that_ the truth," he muttered. "For once everything's peaceful here at home, and you and I still have to find something we can worry about—it's like we don't know how to live without a crisis to ponder—a puzzle to solve. It's like we're a couple of stubborn gardeners building themselves deeper and deeper into their own labyrinth." The little lion chortled happily at this comment: he thought that was a pretty insightful little analogy there! He waited for Clow to join him in his laughter, but strangely, the man had suddenly fallen quiet. "Clow?" the cub asked timidly, glancing up at the man.

"…labyrinth, eh?" he murmured, glasses shining opaquely in the candle light; a whimsically evil smile began to spread across his lips. Oh lord, Cerberus thought to himself, not again! He knew that look! Rising slowly to his feet, the sorcerer chuckled devilishly and whipped what looked like a thick slip of paper from his cloak pocket. "Well," he whispered, "let's see, shall we?"

And without further ado, he hastily released his staff. Cerberus dove for cover as an enormous magical glyph of sorts erupted at Clow's feet. "Oh, _Our Lady!"_ he swore as he dove beneath the bench. Damnit! He _hated_ it when Clow pulled these stunts!

The beast managed to cover his eyes just in time to block out the blinding light that suddenly filled the passage; distantly, he heard his master's voice scream "Seal!"

Honestly, Cerberus snarled to himself while he cowered, how much longer was he going to keep having to go through this? He'd hoped perhaps that they were done making cards! Damnit, this was the first time in _months_! Somewhere behind him, he could just make out the sounds of his companion laughing giddily to himself—whatever spirit Clow had just sealed into his little playing card, it certainly seemed to amuse him. The lion continued to tremble beneath his hiding place even as the glow around them faded. Lightly, he felt someone tap his back.

"Sir Cerberus," an enthused voice called from somewhere above him, "I believe this belongs to you."

Still crying inside, the beast turned around and dared to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was a prominently displayed red-and-gold card dangled inches from his nose. The small creature yelped in surprise and jumped back so fast he hit his head on the bench above. Tearing pathetically, he peeked once more at the surface of the paper: the card was definitely of the solar sign, and on its face it bore—in an excess of irony—the elaborate illustration of a stone labyrinth. The placard at its top bore what looked like a big, underlined, twinkle-star, and the banner beneath read 'The Maze'.

Cerberus glared at the thing sarcastically: 'Maze', huh? Glowering, he looked past the card and into the face of the merrily grinning wizard who held it aloft.

"You're such a child, you know that?" he remarked at Clow, expression softening to one of mild amusement.

The latter simply chuckled in reply. Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Cerberus hopped back onto the cushioned bench and waited patiently for his juvenile master to join him. Honestly, he thought to himself as he settled once more upon the magician's lap, Clow might not want to talk about his childhood years, but damned if the man had _ever_ truly left them!

Unbeknownst to the two laughing sorcerers, a pair of eyes watched them in the distance. They blinked once, heavy feminine lashes crisscrossing over green irises. Then, in the next moment, they and their owner vanished…

…into the darkness.

…

**Chapter 9, Daydreams and Nightmares Part 2: The Daydream**

It was a new moon that evening of December the 28th; a dark, fathomless void filled Luna's usual space in the heavens. A frigid breeze swept across the lawn of Reed manor, rustling the branches of leafless trees. A light snow falling as well: small, powdery flakes drifted down from the moonless sky. They joined a blanket of white, long-since formed beneath. Peaceful. Silent. At last. The grand steps to the manor's front porch were completely covered with a thick layer of ice, and they sparkled faintly in the starlight. On the cover above them, gracing the entrance, the sign which said 'Magia Est Immortalis' was completely obscured by a layer of frost. All the earth had been consumed by the winter snow, and all the sky had been consumed by the blackness of the night. It was a world of monochromacy: darkness on blinding light; and even without moonbeams, the powder expanse was radiating out of the shadows with a strange inner power.

Against the void of the sky, a serene figure was crouched low upon the rooftop of the manor house—surveying the silent scene around him. The sound of soft feathers graced the evening air. Silhouetted against the soft glow of the Milky Way, a pair of vast, angelic wings parted the winds. The figure knelt lowly upon the roof, feeling the ebb and flow of the currents. Plumage stood on end, swaying rhythmically with the breeze; he let his breathing come slowly, wings swaying rhythmically in time. Flight muscles tugged at his ribs as he bid the appendages forward, poised for action, and he breathed out slowly to accommodate them. The gust passed over him, licking at his flesh. He pulled his wide arms back behind him, allowing the night air to fill his lungs once more. Out with the down stroke, in with the up stroke. The figure's eyes were softly closed all the while. Out with the down, in with the up. He was waiting for something…

A powerful wind blew up from behind the quiet sentinel, casting his silvery hair dancing in all directions. For a split second, flight feathers tensed and the boy held his breath as if ready for action. But nothing happened. He let the stream pass. That was not the right one. Not yet. He had to be patient. A tiny butterfly was fluttering in his chest even as the moment slipped away; the surge of adrenaline still tingled on his fingertips. For an instant, he had thought about doing it… But no, he couldn't be hasty—even for the anticipation that was welling up inside of him… he couldn't be hasty. After all, the figure reminded himself: no matter how confident he felt, this was his neck on the line. Violet eyes flashed for a moment onto the distant snow banks beneath him. No matter how soft the snowfall might be, he didn't like to think what a fall from this height could do to his vertebrae. And even if he didn't kill himself in the crash: it was the middle of the night. There would be no one to hear him scream…

The air settled and stirred lightly around him, and the man held his breath again. For a single second, all was perfectly still—his long tresses of hair hovered loosely around as if they were floating on unseen water. Then, all at once, the winds struck up at his rear; streaks of breeze tickled the barbs of anxious feathers. Now. NOW! Taking one last breath for frigid air, the kneeling boy drew his wings up behind him. With a single beat, he launched himself from the rooftop.

…

…

There was an instant where time suddenly seemed to come to a halt. His blood froze within his breast. A cold terror trickled slowly down his spine. The young mage was suspended in the air, some forty feet from the ground. Snowflakes swirled in slow motion all around him. His brain was working sluggishly—stunned, like the rest of him…

When it did come back online, the first thing his neurons could process was the sudden urge to swear. Loudly.

What the _**hell**_, Yue thought wildly, was he _doing_!?

Time was back on. And it was moving fast. Faster than usual. It must have been trying to make up the difference! Wind roared past him, but its sound was nothing to the deafening pounding his ears. The boy was filled with the overwhelming urge to panic! Wings twitched nervously, aching to flap till they broke—_anything_ if it would keep him from plunging to his death! But no, no. He had to stay in control of himself. His musculature was too underdeveloped yet to be able to beat his wings properly. However tempting the impulse, he had to ignore it—if he suffered a critical sprain at this height—! He did _not_ want to become a smear on the ice tonight! He did _not _want to lend this monochromatic scene its first bit of color! No, he needed to remain calm. The current he was riding was a strong one—he'd made sure of that; it would hold him. All he need do was glide upon it.

Yue opened his eyes (which he'd only just realized had reflexively squeezed shut). He was surfing on the gust of wind, his wings splayed to either side of him—feathers spread wide to catch the breeze. He could feel the air streaming in and out of each of his individual flight feathers; carefully, the timid child repositioned a few of the quills to catch the gales better. He wasn't flying, not exactly—but he _**was**_ airborne, _gliding_. His confidence returning, the mage tossed his hair out of his face, and angled his wings to dip lower into the current. He was extremely careful not to beat them, lest he lose his precious lift. Riding on the breeze, he skimmed lowly to the ground and, flapping his feathers at the wrist (shoulders still firmly locked), skidded to a safe—even if not the most graceful—landing.

Exhausted from the sheer terror that had just run through his system, Yue Reed collapsed happily into the pile of snow he had kicked up. Falling back against the drift of soft powder, he relished the cold, icy bite of the frost as it clung to his flesh. He did it, the magician panted gratefully to himself, it worked! He'd just jumped off the top of Reed Manor and lived to tell the tale! His wings parted the heavy groundcover as he sank slowly into the crystals; gleefully, Yue let the slush absorb him like quicksand. He closed his eyes once more and allowed the fervor of the moment to overtake him. His mind still buzzing with endorphins, the sorcerer let his body take the control for which it was so dearly aching. Without conscious desire, he gasped greedily at the evening air, taking it in so fast that it stung his throat. If there had been a butterfly fluttering in his breast, it was now a wild animal. The sound of pounding blood filled his senses—there was almost no rhythm to the racing cacophony. The night air nipped at his bare chest, now completely coated in a cold sweat. Every inch of his flesh was surging with life. Frantically. Desperately. With renewed fervor. It might well have been screaming "Are you _mad_!?"

Well, he laughed with relief, perhaps he was a bit mad—but then again, that seemed to be a requirement of the Reed name!

Now the trouble was that he had to that again except with actual, well, _flying! _Yue laughed aloud, unable to contain himself anymore. His giggles erupted erratically between lungfuls of air. That would definitely be a challenge for another day. Better to leave the racetrack when one was ahead, after all. For a long time, he laid there in his reverie: sweat streaking down his half-dressed form, limbs and hair splayed to all sides, gratefully soaking up the snow. He rested a hand limply upon his breast; the frightened animal within him hammered against the bars of its cage. Yue smirked to himself: did it think it could escape its suicidal owner? Lightly, he massaged his sore pectorals with his palm. "_Be still, my heart,"_ he quoted ironically, "_thou hast known worse than this…"_ Slowly, he felt the terror begin to leave him. Opening his eyes, the young blond gazed at the stars above. An amused smile began to play about his lips. They were the only audience who would know of his crazy stunt. There was no one else to watch him on this quiet night—not even the moon, who was still waiting to be reborn in the New Year. Just he and the stars.

…but it _wasn't _just he and the stars out here, was it?

His body finally starting to relax again, Yue was suddenly much more aware of his surroundings. Startlingly aware. The sky, the ground, the forest edge were all clear of any sign of life, but all the same: a feeling of dread was swiftly to wash over the boy. He wasn't alone out here. The mage felt tension begin to rise once more in his exhausted muscles. Perhaps he was still paranoid—hyperaware after his pulse-racing trauma. It would have been a perfectly logical conclusion…but something inside him squirmed at the idea. He had to be sure… Lying lower into the snow, the sorcerer let his eyelids flicker shut and his magical senses stretch beyond him— scanning the land. No. He _wasn't _alone: hovering somewhere by the stairwell of the manor entrance was the definite aura of …_something_! The boy's brow furrowed momentarily in confusion—'something' was the only way he knew to describe the presence; whatever was there, it certainly exuded an energy of some form, but it was… strange. This creature's aura wasn't like his, or Cerberus', or Clow's—or even those of the non-magical animals that lived in the woods! It didn't pulse with life as he was accustomed to feeling: it was perfectly still, stagnant. As if, somehow, this intruder was not even a living being…

…Yue's eyes snapped open at once. Oh, he was a _fool_! Mentally, he slapped himself for being so excitable. Clearly he had gotten caught up in the anxiety of moment: if he'd been in his right mind, he'd have known from the start that he had nothing to fear from this particular company. He knew who she was now—or _what_ she was, rather. Assuredly, this girl was no intruder. Feeling his momentary panic fade from him as quickly as it had come, the mage laid calmly back against the ice and shut his eyes once more. He let his senses drift even further from him; again they fell upon the girl who was hiding in the manor's shadow. Yes, he could feel her presence properly now. As he had noted the first time, her aura was static and unfluctuating—a light green in color, he would have guessed, and very opaque. Those qualities would be completely inconsistent with any usual life form, but he had a sneaking suspicion that this 'visitor' was nothing of the sort. So it was _her,_ then: that girl from this evening. Sighing, Yue sat up straight and shook the snow out of his long mane of hair; his wings trailed behind him, leaving wide imprints in the powder. Lovely. So he was a bloody snow angel, then? Perfect. But now was not the time to be annoyed by frivolous irony, and so, sighing heavily once more, the young warlock spoke softly into the darkness:

"You know, it's a very cold night," his low, resonating voice called into the void, "You shouldn't be out here—you might catch fever."

As he whispered this last, he let his sharp, penetrating gaze slide easily upon the stairway across the lawn. A high-pitched squeak resounded into the night. Yue smirked: bull's-eye. Served her right for spying on him, he thought arrogantly, residual adrenaline still pounding through his system; but even as he did so, another wave of emotions was beginning to swirl inside him. Another frantic whimper echoed out from the shadows—he thought he could just hear the sounds of her thrashing, as if she had fallen over into the slush. Silently Yue cursed himself. Damn him—he hoped she hadn't hurt herself when she startled. Poor thing, he hadn't meant to frighten her _that_ badly. When had he become so sadistic? After all, this was a young maid he was dealing with here (sort of)—not some thick-skinned dunderhead like Cerberus! The mage breathed heavily, contempt threatening to leave him. No, he couldn't bring himself to play games with this little girl: he'd said himself that she was no threat... _God_, he was soft! As one more desperate cry resonated out of the darkness, the blond felt something deep within him thaw and melt. No, he could not be cruel to a crying little girl—he could not resist her tears. Pausing only one moment longer, Yue forced what was left of his tension away.

"It's alright," he heard himself whisper—quietly, kindly. The words cut across the expanse between them, "I'm sorry I frightened you," he murmured gently, "Won't you come out?"

He waited patiently, the frigid wind kicking his loose hair up into a frenzy; he wasn't expecting her to emerge immediately. To the sorcerer's surprise, however, he could just make out a pair of brightly-colored eyes peek around the corner at him. His companion paused for a heartbeat longer—she seemed to be surveying him with some apprehension, as if his very appearance held her back somehow. Yue cocked an eyebrow. Now what could _that_ be about, he wondered to himself: if she was who he thought she was, then he couldn't imagine what about him should repulse her. But whatever had made her hesitate, the girl soon got over it. A moment later, the mage watched with bated breath as she began to emerge from her sanctuary. A long white gown preceded her. Then a tiny hand. Then a face, and long curls of hair. Yue blinked. Well, if he had suspected she wasn't human before, he was _certain_ of it now! The delicate creature was a good distance away from him across the lawn, but what he could make of her features was… odd, to say the least. Her skin, like his own, was almost as pale as the frost around them—but in this young woman's case, it was hardly of a natural pigment! Indeed, her flesh had a cool sort of hue about it—like her aura. Her hair too, Yue was sure, mother nature must have been positively crying over; it was certainly not of her almighty handiwork. Long curls cascaded all around the child's tiny form, and a neat pair of plait-like forms framed her face. It was the color, however, which had caught the warlock completely off guard: the long, flowing locks were a startling shade of sea foam green!

Still partially dumbfounded by her appearance, Yue watched the maiden bobble through the snow banks between them until the gap was bridged. She stumbled to a stop in the slush (nearly toppling over) and kept her gaze locked firmly on the ground; her hair completely hid her expression from view. Gently, Yue knelt down beside her until they were at eyelevel with each other; knees protested as they struck cold snow, but he scarcely noticed them. The small creature gasped audibly, and for a split second, her companion was graced with a glimpse at her face. Fair jade-colored eyes were thrown wide with shock, and a brilliantly green flush plumed about her cheeks. He smiled lightly as she quickly hid beneath her bangs. The poor thing was flustered then, was she? What on earth did she have to be so anxious about? A split second later, Yue felt a light dusting of color leap into his own cheeks. Surely she wasn't embarrassed because—surely she wasn't so perturbed because of—because of _him_, was she? Surely, _surely_ she couldn't be _**attracted**_ to him or something… could she? For a split second, he was uncomfortably aware of himself: aware that he was standing out here half-naked, in the presence of what he could only describe as a young lady! A shot of bright vermillion leapt into the mage's cheeks to match his companion's green.

A moment later, however, Yue forced himself to regain control. The good thing about being out in the cold was that heat didn't last long. Taking a steadying breath, he leaned back towards the young girl who was still trembling, eyes downcast, inches away from him. Raising a frozen hand, he gently lifted her chin. Sea green eyes latched onto his own fair violet. The lady's flush deepened. "Hello, little one," he cooed softly, "So you're the mysterious woman that my brother has been chasing about the house for months?" he whispered. His companion averted her gaze once more, biting her lip and hanging her head in shame; a small squeaking noise issued from somewhere beneath her turquoise fringe. That, he supposed, was answer enough. Once again, Yue touched her lightly and bid her to raise her view. "Don't worry," he said kindly reaching up to run a comforting hand through her hair, "I'm not angry at you." The little girl's jade eyes were wet and heavy with tears, and her bottom lip trembled as if she might cry. Yue couldn't help but empathize. "You've kept Cerberus quite entertained, after all" he commented with reassuring wit, "and we can certainly all benefit from _that_."

The small creature looked up momentarily, blinking with big saltwater eyes at his suddenly inviting tone. Yue smiled softly at her; reaching out a hand, he gently brushed away tears as they cascaded down her cheeks. "Don't cry now," he whispered, as quietly and compassionately as he could muster, "Like I said, it's quite cold out here—we wouldn't want to freeze such a lovely face." More green flush shot into the maiden's cheeks—apparently she wasn't expecting to be complimented. Yue smiled: perhaps she really did have a little crush, then. Well, that would make things interesting…

"You're a card, aren't you?" he asked after a moment's pause. The small nymph gasped at once, and he watched her pupils reach their widest circumference yet. He said nothing further, waiting—_hoping_—to get some kind of rise out of this child. Seconds ticked by in a heavy silence; the only noise between the two was the wild whipping wind. After the first moments had passed, Yue felt something like disappointment begin to well up inside of him: perhaps this girl could not speak after all. When he'd seen her human form, he'd hoped he might be able to talk with her, but then again (if he was right) she _was_ still a card. Perhaps those squeaks and the cries were the only communication she was capable of… He felt his heart sink. But just as the mage was about to completely abandon his efforts, a tiny sound broke the night. It was so faint and so unexpected, that for an instant he thought he might have imagined it:

"How did you know?"

Yue blinked. Now it was his turn to be surprised.

The air around them seemed to suddenly still. Snow hung eerily above the ground, not daring to fall. The leafless branches of the trees ceased their swaying. The child in front of him was suspended in time, her fair irises flashing up at him with expectation. Could the words truly have come for her?

"Lord Cerberus… he believes me to be a phantom!"

The breeze picked up again; flakes hit the earth; Yue released the breath he had been holding. For a split second longer, he remained slightly dumbfounded, but quickly shook it off. Once again, he smiled down at his companion. So, she _could_ talk, then. Good. Excellent! "Well, I knew you weren't a village girl because of your aura," he breathed good-naturedly, "And I knew that you couldn't be a spirit of some kind… because I don't have the ability to detect spirits—and I could sense you," he added, looking directly into her enormous eyes, "I could see you. That gave me a bit of an advantage over Cerberus."

The young card stood sinking in the snow, enraptured by his every word. Yue breathed a sigh of relief: she was much more manageable this way. This young sprite's voice was high-pitched and soft, but it was still a vast improvement to her embarrassed squeaking. Now that he had finally initiated some kind of conversation, perhaps he could get her to answer some things for him. First of which was—

"What's your name?" the sorcerer asked gently, his long silver tresses dancing around his face as a new gust of wind blew their way.

"Mirror," she blurted through the gale.

Wind and snow temporarily hid the pair from each other's view, green and white cascades of hair clouding their vision. _Mirror_, the older boy pondered inwardly, an odd association for one of the cards—seeing as they were supposed to be directly related to the prime elements of magical invocation. Certainly, 'mirror' was a bit more unexpected of an element than 'fire' or 'water'… but then again, they had seen their share of strange spirits already amongst the deck. Yue thought vaguely of the jester beneath his brother's sign: the enigmatic Erase. Although (Yue's brow furrowed) even if she had been unexpected, Erase was at least more understandable than this child. Magicians and sorcerers of many varieties were well known for making objects 'disappear'—hell, it had become a stage show mockery of their craft! It wasn't so much of a stretch to imagine that such spells might call upon the power of an 'erasing' daemon. But what type of sorcery could possibly invoke a mirror-spirit? What powers might this innocent-looking child possess? Only a few seconds had gone by in real time. Yue peeked through at his companion through the curtain of his dancing silver locks—as if this would somehow answer all his questions. As his eyes fell upon her forehead, however, something did catch the sorcerer's attention. Something was glinting at him in the half-light. Squinting, his gaze fell upon a tiny reflective disk which the child wore across her brow. Out of the darkness, he could see his own piercing violet eyes staring back at him. Reflection—mimicry! Mirrors in nature allowed people to see things which their own eyes could not—and a reflective surface could provide a carbon copy of any image instantly…even mortal beings. Yue's mind was suddenly whirring with action. Yes, he could just imagine a number of incantations—illusions, duplication, projections, disguises…clones—which might invoke the strength of a mirror spirit in order to work… But there was something else that was eating at him…

"Cerberus and I didn't know about you," he whispered seriously, when the breeze had moved away from them, "When did Clow seal you?"

Mirror suddenly looked very distressed and bit down hard on her lower lip. "June…" she whispered, fresh tears leaping into her eyes; the young nymph tore her gaze away. Yue felt as if a leaden weight had suddenly been dropped down his throat: June… A lot had happened back in June—a lot between himself and Clow—! Slowly, many facts began to slide into place. A card of mimicry—of _mimicry_! the potential of such power…A terrible sinking sensation was now settling in his stomach to join the lead: he thought of meeting Clow by the stairs, of running away...

"On the thirtieth?"

The mage's words were not altogether unkind, but they were desperately cold—colder even than the air around them. Mirror gasped audibly, her eyes thrown wide with surprise. For a moment, her companion said nothing. Another gust blew silently by; it kicked streaks of hair into his face, but this time Yue did nothing to stall them. He had been trying so hard not to think of what had transpired between himself and Clow on June the thirtieth… and yet it seemed to be haunting him—haunting him like the specter Cerberus had been hunting. He remembered the touch—the passion…the darkness…If his insides had been leaden before, now they had turned entirely to ice. For the first time that evening, Yue Reed felt truly cold. He had refused to return his master's advances that day—because he'd felt sorry for his brother. Could Clow have sealed this card as… as a _substitute?_ As _his _substitute? Something deep inside the boy knew _exactly _what his master's advances had meant that day—what he had wanted from his young son… a _part _of Yue Reed knew perfectly well what sort of offer he had been made, but his conscious mind refused to let him think on it. His conscious mind refused to acknowledge... All the same, he thought as his gaze returned to the tearful card: What horrors had this child had to endure on that morn? In his own stead? Because he had refused Clow. Because of Clow's insatiable darkness… If she, like a mirror, could mimic any form—if she could take the guise of any _person_ she was commanded to—!

The wind whispered what his mind could not: was his form any exception?

"My lord?"

The voice was soft and gentle: high like a young soprano's… It took the mage a moment to realize he was no longer standing stoically among the snowdrifts. The frost was suddenly nipping at him from all sides: his legs, his thighs, his palms… Glancing around him, he realized that he had dropped to his hands and knees in the slush and was slowly sinking into the wet. Recognizing a light touch on his shoulder, he turned and looked straight into the pale green eyes of a very concerned-looking sprite.

"_**Don't**_ call me that…" he muttered, tone heavy. Mirror recoiled at once, releasing him as if she had done something shameful. She leaped back from him so frantically that her tiny body toppled over and she fell heavily into the ice behind him. Snow flew into the air, and the spirit made a terrible squeaking noise as she crashed. Yue chanced a single glance in her direction. The tears that had been gathering in her eyes now streamed freely down her face; she made no move to rise, but lay there contorted and trembling. Her companion blinked with surprise: he had hardly expected _that_ kind of reaction! He stared, completely confused by her extreme upset. Then realization began to dawn. As Mirror lay there, prostrate, crying, her face was its own confession. She _had_ taken his guise. For Clow. For her master. And, he imagined, like a good servant, she must have done in that form…

_**anything**_ he asked of her…

…

Inside her own mind, the small card was screaming. How could she? How dare she? If he knew when she had been created, then he must know why she had been kept a secret also—he _must_ know the terrible things she had become for Clow! The terrible things she had shown Clow! She had taken on _his_ appearance, for heavens' sake! For Clow! The things she had let her master do—! And then, to think she could _touch_ him! Mirror let her tears come without restraint: she felt the wind sting her skin, felt her long tresses stick to her face. She didn't care. She had crossed the line—she was his inferior. That wasn't her place. Squeezing her eyelids tightly shut, she braced herself for the impact she knew must be coming. He should strike her—she deserved it! She had known! She shouldn't have followed her lunar guardian outside tonight—she had known that it would have been far wiser to run back to Clow's wing and hide! She had known that when she ran into him earlier! After all, she thought painfully, her very creation had been to fly in this beautiful boy's face. How, when her very _existence_ was an insult to him, did she think she could follow him out here—spy on him? But something inside her was simply not letting her run away… she couldn't describe it. He-he made her feel so flustered—so out-of-control!—and yet, she was somehow drawn in like a moth to a flame. And like the moth, she would burn for her wretched romanticism!

Mirror felt her entire body tense, braced for impact. He would surely slap her at least! She swallowed hard: her guardian was a very powerful magician—he could do far worse to her if he wanted to! But she prayed that he might be merciful to her—as he had been earlier in the manor! She knew what he must be thinking—she could see the pieces falling into place behind his eyes, heard the chill in his voice. 'Don't call me that'—as if she didn't even deserve to address him now that he realized what her purpose to their master had been, as of late! He must have realized when he asked if she was sealed on the thirtieth: that she had been created to fill his place when Clow—their selfsame 'creator'—had wanted him. Six months of hidden emotions suddenly welled up in the tiny creature—she didn't know why! But she would take whatever punishment her guardian felt he must impress upon her. She deserved it: she was a traitor—and she had dared to _approach_ him! Yes, any second now—!

But when the next second came, something extremely unexpected happened. Mirror blinked. Strong arms had engulfed her, but not to strike her down as she had expected. Warm arms. Smooth. Gentle. She felt them snake around her, pulling her up out of the slush. "That's not what I meant, you little fool," a soft, deep voice murmured in her ear. Mirror felt her tears instantly fade away. What was this, then? Could this really be happening? Was she imagining it? She felt his long silvery hair float around her and knew it must be reality, but… this was so unexpected! He was so _kind_…The young spirit felt half a year's worth of stocked and stored tension wither away like the December foliage. She could have melted there in those arms (and considering her natural intangibility, she just _might _have done!). As the breeze picked up, Yue pulled her into a protective embrace, drawing her head lightly to his chest—Mirror flushed her greenest shade of all. Oh my! This was all very unprecedented! "Please don't call me that," the magician whispered, hugging her closely against the cold, "It's 'Yue'. I don't think I'm fit to be called anyone's 'lord'."

The card in his arms felt momentarily stunned. She couldn't imagine how she had gotten into this position! As she peered up at her guardian, it was as if all of her terror, all of her guilt and sadness had faded away; it might not have even been there in the first place. "But…" she began to protest; Yue silenced her almost immediately. He tightened his hold around the girl, drawing them ever nearer together. She felt his cheek brush her hair and something inside her squirmed in approval. She liked being close to him, even if it simultaneously felt like she was stepping far across a forbidden line. _Yue…_his touch was so warm… He was not like Clow, but he was not like her either: he was—he was—!

"If anyone is your master," he cooed, "It would be Clow: he sustains all of our lives, after all—mine _most_ assuredly."

"Master Clow brought us into this world," she agreed, voice shaking with flustered energy as she snuggled so closely to the older boy, "His support—his magic sealed us into being. His power is what bound my spirit into this physical world, and his continued support is what allows it to stay attached to this card form…

"But my life…" she muttered, voice trailing off dazedly. Her flush spread across her entire face, creeping down her neck until she almost looked solid green. The nymph was very aware of this man beside her now. She felt the strength of his grip around her back, the heat of his flesh contrasted to their cold surround. She felt his body, his _living_ body all around her. Breathing. Pulsing with life. Softly, she closed her eyes and let his surging aura rush over her. She was so close now—to the very core of his power. She had never been this close to anyone—not like this! A welcome shiver ran up her spine. "That my spirit exists at all is because of you. I am an element of the lunar sign: I have always—will always—stem from the Spirit of the Moon… the one once called a million lunar deities." She felt Yue suddenly tense beneath her, and Mirror pulled lightly away—still deeply in her nervous daze. She raised her hands to where her cheek had rested, and clasped them gently to his breast. Yue let out a tiny gasp as she shifted, but the card pressed boldly on: "Master Clow gave me this physical existence, but my life… comes from you."

As she said the last, she dared to look into his eyes. They were beautiful like the rest of him: piercing, sparkling violet in color. They had looked so silvery earlier, but now were suddenly becoming much more purple. Curious, Mirror blinked up at her master. His pupils had widened slightly, and a light dusting of pink graced his pale cheeks; beneath her hands, she felt powerful musculature contracting suddenly with tension. Even the thought of it all aroused some deep emotion inside of her. Yue… he had such a gift in this world, and he didn't even realize it. He was so—!

A fresh gust of snow suddenly flew by them, breaking her rapture in a surge of cold. Mirror shivered—whether from the weather or… or from something else, she wasn't sure. Whatever it was, Yue didn't fail to take notice. If she had made him self-conscious, his own chivalry seemed to have stamped it out; once more, the girl felt him hug her close, protecting her from the storm. Her face became an even deeper shade of emerald, but this time she happily embraced it. Cuddling up very near to him, she rested her cheek upon his breast once more, fingers lightly tickling his sternum. It was like she had thought earlier in the house: he was very much like Shield. Perhaps because it was from right here that Shield was sealed away. Closing her eyes, the girl felt her companion's power wash over from her again—pulsing like waves out of a place right beneath her fingertips. The small nymph smiled; the source of his power was here, beneath her gentle touch—power that Shield had touched to the very core. The place, she thought with an anxious heat in her face, where his heart was.

Despite herself, the nymph shivered once again.

"I told you it was cold," the mage above her whispered, smiling with mild amusement, "You could catch your death out here."

"You shouldn't be worried about me!" Mirror rambled in reply, a sad expression suddenly began to dawn on flushed face. Silently, her chin drooped to her chest; staring down at the arms that held her, she traced one of his veins with a sad sort of reverence. Yue shivered at her touch—whether because of the chill or…or something else, she couldn't be sure. Secretly, the sprite reflected, he was proving the point that was now whirring in her mind. Her next words were so silent that even the snowflakes could have drowned them out: "You're the one who's mortal."

She heard Yue gasp in mild surprise, but didn't take her eyes off his forearm. "You," he muttered shakily—she could only imagine his expression, "You aren't then? …Mortal?"

Mirror shook her head sadly. "No," she whispered finger still caressing the faint bluish webbing upon his flesh, "not exactly.

"Our physical bodies are our card forms. We might be able to mimic human-like appearances when we manifest, but…" Her voice faded away for a moment, and Yue looked down on the small girl with obvious concern. It was sweet of him to care. He had no idea how much she envied him… to be moral: to taste the air, to feel blood surging through his veins, to be weakened by the cold, the heat—even the ability to be hurt! It all seemed so romantic… far superior to the semi-intangibility the cards experienced. Both he and Lord Cerberus enjoyed such a luxury. But Yue was the fortunate one: the most human… "The cold can't hurt me," she finished dismally, tears threatening once more to roll down her lashes, "Only… just a little bit... when I take on human guise…"

Her voice faded away with the wind. If she were to be truthful, Mirror was feeling more human now than ever before: she was tired. This entire day had been a very different—very real experience; for the first time in her life, the card felt physically and emotionally exhausted. But there might be something in there to relish.

A moment later, Yue spoke again. "Did you say you can take on others' forms?" he asked gently. For a split second, Mirror hesitated: this could lead her back to her treachery with Clow after all—to the horrible truth that she had taken on _his_ form! But no, she thought as she looked deeply into his face, that wasn't what shone in his eyes: there was no malice there, no anger—just curiosity, honest curiosity. The sprite felt heat rise to her skin once more: if there was something _she _could help _him _with—!

"Y-yes," she stammered, color increasing again until she looked like an evergreen. Oh! And she had been doing so well there for a minute! Why was she getting so ruffled again now? She turned her view decidedly downward: it was safer there. His eyes, his visage —his whole _being_ seemed to make her lose herself! "I can take the guise of any living person—reflect them…"

Fortunately, Yue didn't leave her simmering long: "Then do you know anything of this mysterious girl?" he asked quietly—despite herself, Mirror couldn't help but peek at his expression. His countenance was still overall cordial, but a certain shadow was beginning to creep in where pure empathy had been. The young spirit blinked up at him: it was as if the cold and darkness around them had begun to seep their way into them as they had the ground, the sky, the trees. He was clearly very serious. "Do you know anything," he whispered again, "about this child Cerberus and Clow have been seeing in their dreams. The foreign maiden with the green eyes?"

Sadly, Mirror had to shake her head. "No," she murmured dismally, "Master Clow has asked me that too: he asked me if I could take on her form—or if I could show her to him in my magic mirror… but I cannot."

"What does that mean, exactly?" the sorcerer pressed, "Is she dead then? A ghost?" One last time, their eyes met: piercing amethyst on watery jade. Mirror chewed her bottom lip.

"No," the child replied, her expression now darkening as well, "those that have passed are under my power just as well as the living.

"It means," she muttered grievously, "that she hasn't yet been born."

…

The New Year came and went without much fuss. On the last eve of December, a stupendous party was kicked up on the streets of Lightwater that lasted the whole night through. The three solitary residents or Reed Manor heard the sounds of their merriment drift up from the valley until long after daybreak, but they of course were not a part of it. Cerberus, Yue, and Clow had stood upon their lawn as midnight drew near, and quietly welcomed 1683 in their own humble vigil—Cerberus snuggled tightly between them, wrapped in Yue's cloak for fear of the cold. Like a naughty child, the old year had snuck silently away into darkening sky; the Reed trio prayed that all of its mischief went with it.

Winter had slipped away just as stealthily, and before anyone knew it, spring had dawned In Surrey once more.

The sound of song birds was in the air again; the lawn and trees were becoming lush and green once more; from the nearby hills, the smell of fresh April flowers filled the air with a thick perfume. Clow Reed stood by an ivy-lined window, simply relishing it all. His eyes were softly closed as he breathed in the sweet scents of the morning; a gentle breeze tousled his long, obsidian hair. The wizard sighed to himself contentedly: it was truly a lovely day.

Just as the summer had brought its heat and winter its sobering coolness, the spring of 1683 seemed to reinfuse a new life into the walls of Reed Manor. Things had been relatively peaceful here for quite some time now. Even his dreams had grown less violent than they had been the previous summer—Clow's brow furrowed slightly at the thought—although… the magician sighed. He didn't really want to think about nightmares at a time like this. It had been almost a year now since he had woken up in that cold sweat, Mirror and Illusion hovering above him: the terrors had stopped, the visions had not. Perhaps now even more potently with the springtime, his dreams had become ever more intangible—filled each evening with images of dancing cherry blossoms and girlish laughter… he couldn't explain it. He could not fathom why on earth these apparitions were haunting him: Mirror—his own card—had personally assured him that this phantom of his dreams did not exist.

Perhaps he was going mad… but if that were so, Clow thought bitterly, then everyone else in the house must be spiraling into insanity with him.

He and Cerberus no longer discussed their dreams together—if his son _was_ still seeing visions of this young brunette, then he was clearly the beast was in denial of it. But out of the corner of his eye, Clow still sometimes saw the cub shrink away from the color pink—grow leery every time the scent of blooming flowers filled the air… He clearly could not quite shake this specter either. Mind drifting off like the light breeze around him, the magician chuckled to himself. Thinking of the perfumed air had reminded him of the beautiful April morning around him, and speaking of his little lion had sparked other happy observations of the season. 'Cub'. 'Little'. Those were two words, the sorcerer laughed, that he would have to start removing from his vocabulary.

Cerberus Reed was almost two years old now and growing by the day. His feet and tail still seemed very large for his body, but they were starting to grow well into proportion. Long, slender legs ran down the cat's sides where stubby limbs had been before; they held up a lean, muscular body which had replaced the creature's stores of baby fat. He was now at least the size of a bloodhound and was well on his way to a Great Dane—he had successfully tackled Clow the other day, and the wizard had been startled to find that Cerberus' front paws could easily reach his shoulders. The boy still had not grown a mane like an African lion, but the ruff around his neck had grown thicker and darker as his new summer coat began to grow in; his fur glowed like a marigold in the sunlight. He was truly turning into quite a handsome beast—a vast improvement upon the strange, awkward-looking creature Clow had summoned into being two years ago. And yet, according to Yue, Cerberus was probably only half-grown.

Yue…

A light flush crept into the magician's cheeks, but he bitterly forced it back down.

Yue had grown quite a lot this year too. The changes in the younger boy had been much less pronounced than in his brother—somehow it had slipped Clow by just as quietly as the changing seasons. Relative to a normal human model, Yue Reed was now nearly fifteen years of age—and was rapidly outgrowing every scrap of clothing he had. He was still not very large—at least a head shorter than Clow, if not more—but had grown a good couple of inches taller over the last ten months. It showed most startlingly in the overlong trousers he insisted on wearing around the house most of the time. Clow sighed, Yue was definitely a strange individual. While it was true he was no longer fitting his clothes, this fact bothered his father far more than it did the mage himself: Yue was never one for proper dress—hell, he would probably run around naked if he thought he could get away with it. (Naked…Something inside the sorcerer squirmed at the thought, and he quickly squished the sensation like an annoying insect.) He dressed like a country peasant or a burly revolutionary more than anything, Clow laughed inside his mind, but the boy was clearly not going to be able to pull that off much longer. In addition to his height, many more things about this young mage were beginning to change. His shoulders for one had grown considerably broader than they had been his first year of life. Strong flight muscles caressed the lengthening stretch between his neck and arms; they pulled his light cotton undershirts tautly across his breast until the buttons threatened to burst from strain… Clow suddenly shook his head furiously, forcing whatever thoughts had been forming to instantly dispel. Somewhere deep inside him, the sorcerer had felt a strange excitement begin to bubble to the surface. Images fought their way into his mind as he mused and he could just faintly imagine the shimmer of milky white skin peeking in and out of strained seams. Licking his lips nervously, he could almost imagine the sheer look of light, thready garments stretched tightly over a growing physique… Just how much of the young sorcerer's flesh _could _he see this year, whether the child dressed in the morning… or not? With Yue's growing maturity, he wondered what else about his developing body may have changed… The wizard felt an electric charge build inside him even at the suggestion that—

No. No! NO! Clow shouted at himself, shaking his head even more vigorously. There was to be _no _thinking like that! That sort of thinking could awaken this darkness inside him again! He didn't dare! He didn't _dare _think that way! Groaning slightly, the wizard opened his eyes and tried to let the images of the spring scenery flood his mind once more. The gentle touch of the wind licked his sweaty brow. Damn, why did Yue have to…excite him… so greatly? Even with simple musings such as the boy's growth this year, he could suddenly feel himself breathing much more heavily and something deep beneath his belly leaping, pounding—swelling—readily with expectation. Just what was it he was hoping the boy grew _into_? Just what purposes was he possibly devising, here? Leaning back against the windowsill, Clow shut his eyes once more; trembling, he clasped a hand heavily to his breast. His heart was hammering so hard against his ribs that it was beginning to make him feel sick.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he asked to no one in particular—to the birds perhaps, or the trees, or the ivy. "Why can't I shake this…this…"

Passion? Was that what this was inside of him? Certainly he hadn't been bothered in the least to think of the ways in which _Cerberus_ had matured. Not like _this_ anyway… Wearily, the sorcerer massaged his temples: he was starting to get quite a tension headache. He was starting to believe that _he _was the one who was fifteen years old again. Honestly, what on earth was he supposed to do about this whole Yue predicament? Truly, he wasn't sure his feeble body could stand this level of repression much longer—he had never been the athletic sort.

That was another thing that had changed again with the seasons: he and Yue. While it was true that Clow had not forgotten the warning dreams he'd had the previous July, it was getting harder and harder for him to maintain the same calm he had forced upon himself during the winter. It was spring, after all—the month of maying, as these Englishmen said! The birds were calling to their mates, the bears were reawakening out of their caves, plant life everywhere was blooming and pollenating. And Clow Reed was starting to feel a bit pollen-heavy himself, he confessed dismally. He would not let his dark side—his power of darkness—overtake him again, but what was he to do of lighter passions? Yue was growing ever more lovely by the day—there was no part of him that could deny that! His adult masculature was beginning to develop where a thin, boyish frame had been; his face was becoming sharper and more striking; his voice was staying much longer in its devilishly lower key… it was intoxicating! He had once compared the boy to a fine wine: perhaps he was! A fine white wine—definitely a white. Pale. Exotic. Delicate. Growing ever better as it aged. Clow's entire body shivered. Cerberus had once warned him to stay away from the boy—and he had readily done so after that terrible nightmare!—but…

But things were not that black and white (wine preferences aside). On the one hand, there were these dreams—this young girl. It seemed less and less likely that she was something as simple as Yue's future bride: Cerberus had said that he felt he shared the same kinship with her, after all. A part of Clow soared inside at the thought—the thought that Yue's future was not necessarily vowed to a single partner yet… but nonetheless, something about the situation weighed ominously on him. The wizard couldn't deny that whoever this specter was, she was undoubtedly very close to his youngest son. 'I'm sorry' he had said in that dream… as if Yue's premature death had somehow deprived her of the relationship she deserved. What relationship? What was her connection to the boy? Why did it seem as if she _was, _in a way, destined to his two children? …As if she was there to love these two without him—_instead _of him? Clow sighed: it was as if somehow his sons _were_ already promised to her, and he was welcome to do as he pleased only as long as he did not disrupt that inheritance.

Gods, this was complicated!

And then there was the other hand: the other thing to be considered. Yue. _Beautiful_ Yue… Even as his mind shifted to the topic, Clow felt something deep inside his abdomen become hot and throbbing again; he was instantly aware of his pulse beating in a variety of strange places. He had so many logical reasons for staying away from that boy, but… his emotions simply would not let him. He had been… 'infatuated', he supposed…by that little blond since the day the child had been born—long before this inner darkness had overtaken him. Something deep inside the sorcerer was bidding him on to admit his feelings to himself—to seize the day while he still had the chance!

Because, naggingly, something deep inside his bosom told the man that if he did not act upon this aching desire now—if he did not create some kind of relationship with Yue now—!

He would soon lose the chance forever. The seasons were changing… and there was some kind of end waiting for them on the horizon. It would be upon them shortly.

Body still shaking like a leaf, Clow pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. He wasn't entirely sure what he was doing or where exactly he was going, but he was certain that he didn't want to sit up here alone anymore. There was a beautiful day to enjoy, after all. Hearing the sounds of laughter echoing up from his front lawn, the wizard wandered his way out toward the entrance hall.

…

If there was one thing Clow Reed was right about, it was that the day was indeed lovely. A weak, April sun was peaking in and out between a sea of puffy clouds, covering the ground below in a patchwork of shade. The waters of the great lake on the eastern side of the grounds were cool and sparkling in the afternoon light, and the cliffs above it were covered with a fresh crop of new grass. Yue Reed strode out across blooming field, happily feeling the infant blades tickle his toes. A gentle breeze rippled his hair around his neck; it licked away what beads of sweat had formed beneath its silvery cascade. The perfect spring day…

Hands quickly found their way to his collar, and in one fluid movement, the young sorcerer cast open the front of his shirt to an onslaught of wind. The light April air cooled his captive breast, and the boy let out a contented sigh. Carefully, he peeled the thin fabric off his shoulders, and let it slide away until his entire upper body was bared to the elements. Light sparkled on pale, sweat-kissed flesh, and the cotton shirt gathered at his elbows swayed like a pendulum. Skin tingling with delight, Yue willed away the enchantment that usually hid his last two appendages. As the touch of soft feathers rippled down his back, the mage shivered visibly, moaning quietly as they met with the gale. Muscle, nerve, sinew all up and down his torso contracted longingly as white wings unfolded out of his shoulder blades. Yes, he whispered to his aching body, they would be getting to that very shortly. Something deep inside the sorcerer flickered with a different sort of anxiety as he thought on the task ahead of him. Swallowing hard, he beat the fear into submission again and turned his attention back to the calming atmosphere around him.

His flesh cried out for action after so long a confinement. Extending his joints at the wrist and elbow, the young blond stretched his wings as wide as they would go. Feathers fluttered in the gale, calling him—_begging_ him to leap into the skies. He longed to soar: every ounce of his being was saying so! Holding his breath, the mage cautiously bid his shoulders into action —lightly at first. Rhythmically, tender flight muscles twitched and relaxed—ripples of heavy work glided beneath his exposed flesh; wings wavered—not quite flapping—at his sides. He met no resistance. Good. Brilliant. That was exactly what he was hoping…

Yue smiled slyly to himself: he had a plan for these wings today—one that had been far too long in the making, in his opinion. Exhaling softly, he closed his eyes and let the tranquility of the day completely fill him. He crouched lowly to the ground beneath him, like a hound dog waiting to pounce. Wings at his sides spread horizontally; they slowly pulled up to their highest position. Everything about the boy was waiting—ready at a moment's notice to leap into action. Peace. Concentration. He could do this—all he needed was to stay perfectly—

"YUEEEEE!"

Tensed with expectation, Yue Reed leapt several feet in the air as his bubble of repose was suddenly shattered. Wings reflexively snapped down like a slingshot, and before he had the slightest clue what was happening, a disoriented sorcerer found himself unexpectedly summersaulting against an oncoming breeze. Long flowing hair was immediately kicked up into his face, blinding the boy. The scenery around him spun in a great whirlwind. Feathered forearms flapping desperately, Yue tried to right himself, but he had no idea which way was up anymore. This wasn't exactly what he had had in mind! Childish laughter was echoing up from somewhere beneath him—familiar laughter! _Cerberus_, the mage thought bitterly, what he wouldn't give to _strangle_ that little rat at the moment! A small gust whipped up beneath him, and the young blond immediately hurtled his wings down against it in a last ditch effort to get himself airborne.

No such luck, unfortunately.

As wings beat heavily at his sides, their frightened owner felt his entire ribcage contract backwards under the sudden strain. Yue, who had completely thrown off his usual rhythm, felt the breath instantly knocked out of him. Sparkles appeared in his visual field, and what seemed little more than a heartbeat later, the mage felt himself strike ground.

Coughing and spluttering as he tried to regain himself, it took the boy a moment to completely process what had just happened. The continued cackling of a small lion somewhere off to the side was the first true awareness to come back to him. _Cerberus…! _Swearing softly under his breath, Yue forced himself into a seating position, tossing a great deal of hair out of his face as he did so. He had been lying on his side several yards from his starting position, the young sorcerer noted. A glaring skid mark in the new spring grass marked the place where he had crashed. Wiping the dirt off his face, he turned to confront the assailant who had caused all this ruckus. Just as he had suspected, Cerberus Reed was rolling around on the ground a good four or five yards away, simply beside himself with merriment. His wings, like Yue's, were released, and pure white feathers stuck with dirt and leaves as they rocked back and forth beneath him. The cub was clutching his sides for the severity of his laughter; rubbing his own sore ribcage (which had struck down first), Yue felt absolutely no sympathy for the creature.

"Oh my _God!_" Cerberus chuckled heartily, "That was the most graceless thing I've ever _seen_!" His eyes were squeezed shut for the joyous tears welling up inside them.

Yue scowled. "_Cerberus…_" he growled lowly, fists clenching at his sides. The lion tried to glance up at him, but apparently one look at his brother's knotted mane, mud-splattered skin, and grass-stained knees was enough to send him reeling again into a fit of relished sniggering. For a split second, the mage thought of retaliating—the midday moon was sparkling high in the heavens above him, and he could just feel the touch of magic surging into his fingertips. He could whip out a sabre of energy and slash at the misshapen creature, he considered angrily, or barrage him with something more akin to an icy or crystalline form! There was that new energy arrow maneuver he was working on…

(Yue smiled for a moment as the image leapt to mind of Cerberus, hog-tied and gagged, slow-roasting over an open flame. What a very poetic thought…)

No. Lovely as the idea of spearing this little _monster_ was… the boy could already feel his wrath ebbing away. Sighing heavily, Yue turned scornfully away from the rolling, heaving, giggling mess; bitterly, he began wiping away all of the dirt that had stuck to his sweat-kissed skin. Cerberus' laughter began to subside, but his brother still refused to pay him any mind. Perhaps he couldn't bring himself to _maim_ his cursed sibling, but Yue would be damned if he was going to give him any rise either. The little demon could get the cold shoulder for once as far as he cared.

"Yue," Cerberus chuckled lightly from somewhere more closely behind him, "Come on, turn around! You know I didn't mean anything by it!"

Yue snorted disdainfully. Didn't mean anything by it? Very likely indeed: he knew this beast far too well to fall for _that _line anymore. Since when did Cerberus do anything if it wasn't to antagonize—to amuse himself? Such a lie was almost blasphemous to utter—didn't these Englishmen say that such sacrilege would receive divine punishment? Glancing up at the periwinkle sky, Yue threw it an accusing look—as if he was expecting clouds to suddenly roll in and the heavens unleash their wrath upon the creature behind him. Needless to say, nothing of the sort happened, but the young boy wasn't particularly surprised. After all, he snorted, if these Englishmen were to be believed, he and his housemates should already be swinging by their necks down in the village square. (Vaguely, he wondered what the townsfolk would do if he presented them with a talking lion…)

"Yue," Cerberus whined again, sounding all the more pathetic. For a moment, Yue considered looking him in the eye, but decided better on it. "Come on! I'm sorry, alright? It's just…" the lion chuckled to himself, unable to contain his amusement, "It was just _such _a **fall**!"

Yue growled angrily at his merriment, felling his frustration beginning to well up again. Damn him, the mage thought bitterly, why did he have to spoil everything? Perhaps he should have waited until nightfall again to attempt this—when Cerberus would be asleep in his bed, probably having prophetic dreams about some blasted girl who didn't exist! Yue whirled back around at once, his long plait sweeping up off the ground in his wake. He smiled with a sick pleasure as it smacked Cerberus across the face and he watched the cub instantly recoil.

"Owww!" Cerberus whined as he pulled himself (at last) onto his feet, "That actually hurt! That's a lethal weapon you've got there!" he complained, rubbing his nose with a free paw. Yue showed no signs of sympathy.

"That was _not _funny, Cerberus!" Yue spat in annoyance, glaring down at the whimpering wretch who had so unceremoniously interrupted him. With a soft rustling noise, his feathers began to stand on end with agitation, pineconing around him. Cerberus bit down on his tongue, clearly trying with all his power not to laugh anymore. Attempting to control himself, the cub glanced up at his brother. Canary-yellow eyes scanned over the boy's unkempt features to his flushed, angry face; all at once, the beast doubled over with merriment once more.

"I'm sorry," Cerberus chortled, making no attempt to hide glee, "but actually, Yue, I think this is _very_ funny!" he snorted joyously, gesturing at his sibling's wings—which were now completely ruffled, and almost twice their usual size, "I mean, look at you! You look like a sparrow facing off with a predator, all puffed up like that!" Self-consciously, Yue felt snow-white plumage begin to bristle even worse as a fresh wave of heat shot up into his face. The urge to use Cerberus for target practice was rising rapidly inside him again.

He didn't act on it.

Sighing heavily, the young mage turned back away from the little beast. He shouldn't have been surprised at the creature's behavior, knowing the little rat as he did. He scarcely expected his roommate to be anything more than frivolous, but these were serious matters he was dealing with today! His goal was genuine as were his reasons—not that Cerberus would understand any of _that! _

A great deal of things _had _changed since the past summer, but one glaringly obvious point remained constant: Yue still had not been able to take flight. Since his success with gliding back in December, he had actually made very little headway—at least as far as anyone in the manor knew. It was a fact that was beginning to gnaw at the young sorcerer—for a variety of reasons. One of these this strange spell which had slowly been overcoming his household. Neither Cerberus nor Clow had said a word about nightmares or visions since the former's teary confession back in the last days of 1682. All the same, Yue was not quite fool enough to fall for their peaceful ruse: whatever future was slowly creeping up on the horizon, it was most certainly not being quiet about its advance. Even without the gift of foresight, this youngest magician knew that something dark was fast approaching. He couldn't explain it properly—not even to himself… It was almost as if an end were coming… An end to what, the blond boy couldn't be sure—as he had said earlier: that was his housemates' jurisdiction. But there was something coming: an end; a transformation; the closing curtain. This wasn't change like they'd known thus far—this wasn't like blizzards or fevers or birthdays. It was much more final. Like a novel in a series, something about their lives thus far was reaching a close—and like a well-spun yarn, he had a feeling that this installment would be capped off with a suspenseful ending.

He had to be prepared. If there was crisis coming for the magicians of Reed manor, then he was _not_ going the be the weak link that put Clow and Cerberus in danger. Vaguely, he thought back to a conversation he and his sibling had shared all the way back in their first winter together—the day that Yue himself had been so ill with a passing fever… the day Shield was born. Cerberus may have said that he wasn't a hindrance to this group—weak though he was—but still in the pit of his stomach, the young mage couldn't help but feel otherwise. He had to be able to fly at _least_! He had wings, didn't he? Surely they were supposed to be for something other than mere show! It was true that he had struggled heartily with flying thus far—there was simply so little space in his bipedal frame for proper flight musculature (he felt the developing muscle group on the interior of his wing joints tug lightly at his vertebrae). He remembered well the sprains and strains he had suffered these years in the pursuit of sustained flight, but he could not let that stop him—not anymore!

That was his most noble reason for being out here today, anyway. Though he'd be a liar if he said it was his _only_ motivation. In fact, in his heart of hearts, Yue actually preferred the _ignoble _reason by a long shot!

He chanced a glance back over his shoulder to where Cerberus lay, guffawing, somewhere to his rear. He glowered at the creature's impish smile. Wings at the boy's sides twitched as if eager to disprove him—eager to wipe that smug grin off the little bastard's face! Much as he would have liked to pretended otherwise, the other reason for his flight obsession was purely selfish: Damnit! He was sick of watching that little brat fly circles around his head! It was about time somebody knocked the mighty Cerberus Reed off his high horse—and Yue seemed to be the only one equipped to do so. After all, he thought slyly, hadn't that little cretin once told him that tormenting one's siblings was "part of the job description"? So be it then, he smirked—let the sibling rivalry begin!

"Laugh if you like, then," he spat haughtily at the little lion as he turned away. (At least, he _hoped_ it sounded haughty—secretly, Yue still felt his face flushed with embarrassment at his spectacular failure a few moments ago.) "We'll see who's laughing in the end, now won't we?"

Cerberus' chuckles momentarily subsided. "Alright then," he whispered playfully—cunningly, Yue would have said, if it wasn't his _brother _he was talking about! "go on! Let's see what you've got then, Lord of the Skies!"

Yue scowled, fists clenching so hard at his sides that his arms shook with strain. God! Why did Cerberus have to be so _intolerable _sometimes? Glancing to the heavens above, the sorcerer took one last moment to study the unstable gales. For a split second, his previous caution crept back over him—was he really going to do this all so rashly? But as his companion's laughter resounded, he forced the thoughts away; bitter pride took up the place where his fear had been, and Yue instantly forgot his previous doubts. He would show this furry little nuisance!

Bearing down, he crouched lowly to the earth, wings unfurling to their maximum length. Breeze tickled his feathers and the young boy held his breath. Then, without giving a single thought to the condition of the surrounding air currents, he launched himself from the ground in a massive show of plumage. For the space of a heartbeat, the sorcerer felt a sense of accomplishment as a rush of wind kicked up beneath him. Feathers dusted the grass as they descended, and immediately pulled back into a successful upstroke. Yes! Finally! It was working!

(On an unrelated note, at about this time in Cambridge, a man named Isaac Newton was sitting at his writing desk when he was suddenly struck with the inspiration to give gravitational theory another go-round.)

No sooner had he started out than Yue was already cursing himself for his stupidity. Despite his initial hopefulness, he was quickly discovering a problem: namely gravity. What little lift his initial downstroke had gained him, the mage was soon learning, was not _nearly _enough to get him airborne. Desperately, Yue tried to flap his enormous appendages—anything to gain some altitude!—but his vast, twenty-foot wingspan was suddenly looking a lot less grand than it had seemed while it was stationary. Heavy and cumbersome, they simply would not move _fast _enough! For a moment, he hovered meters off the ground, flailing like a fish on a line. Birds were singing. Trees were swaying. Somewhere, Cerberus was hooting and howling with laughter. (Somewhere else, Newton was thinking about bodies in orbit.) And the ground was suddenly looking much more solid. Despite himself, the boy let out a tiny cry as he plummeted face first back into the dirt.

For a short time, the world was completely black. The birds were still singing. Cerberus sounded like he might crack a rib for the strength of his cackling. Yue lay dismally where he had crashed, grass encroaching upon every part of him. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the mud, rubbing the dust away from his eyes. Well, he thought disdainfully, _that _certainly didn't go as planned… He knew even without being able to see himself that he surely a shade of vermillion by now—and not because of friction burn. As his companion continued to snort and gasp with merriment, the mage looked himself over. He didn't seem to be injured, he noted thankfully: a couple of light abrasions were oozing slightly where his arms and chest had struck ground. Bruises were beginning to come in on other parts of his body, but they were almost impossible to identify beneath the layer of dirt which was now crusted to his flesh. The most irksome of these was splattered across his ribcage where he had struck ground, and Yue cursed himself for not wearing a shirt during this endeavor. (A moment later, he realized that it wouldn't have fit around his wings anyway.) He didn't even _want_ to look at his hair! Dusting himself the rest of the way off, Yue once more pulled himself out of the crater he had dug in the fresh spring groundcover. He rounded on Cerberus.

"Oh my _GOD!_" the little lion behind him wailed, "that was the _most _ridiculous—the _most—ARGH!"_ The little lion's words were quickly cut off as he was forced to roll out of the way of a barrage of oncoming crystals. They hurtled into the ground, inches away from where the beast had just been laying, sticking out of the ground like a stream of purple daggers. Cerberus blinked, lip trembling. Wide golden eyes stared at them, as if unable to believe what they were seeing; slowly, they traced the angle of attack across the field, down the skid mark of mud, and at last onto Yue's furious face. Gaze lingered a moment on the boy's clenched hands, which were still glowing violet with residual energy. "Aww," the creature pouted, mocking tears, "What'd you do that for? Those could have _hurt_!"

"That's the _point!"_ Yue spat angrily, amethyst irises darkening with rage. The pounding in his ears was returning now, but for an entirely _different_ reason than it had on previous attempts. Damn him! Damn Cerberus! Did he have to be so _cruel_? Any noble reasons Yue Reed might have had for being out on the lawn that day were quickly fading from his mind. To hell with preparations or danger or whatnot! He realized that he deserved all this heartily for entertaining his brother and his childish notions—Cerberus had about as much sympathy as a rock! But even so—! The little brat certainly wouldn't appreciate it if _he _received naught but mocking next time he woke up from a nightmare! No, now this was purely about slapping his roomate's laughter right back in his face! Tossing his completely knotted hair roughly over his shoulder, the younger boy stepped forward again, scouting a good launching position.

"Oh, come on, Yue!" Cerberus shouted from somewhere at his rear, "Don't be like that!"

The mage paid him no mind. Inwardly, he knew his sibling had a point: he was being childish and irresponsible himself now—but, damnit he didn't care! He was sick and tired of Cerberus swooping in and scaring the life out of him. He was sick of the taunting and the feeling of uselessness—he was sick most of all of the blasted pity he got from his housemates the rest of the time! And he was most especially not enjoying being the brunt of Cerberus' latest joke. Shaking the debris from his feathers, he extended them once more to their full span—this time allowing them to part the winds above him. Closing his eyes, the boy felt the currents of air whip past the hill. He wouldn't be hasty this time—now he knew what he was getting into. He would show that little monster one way or another!

"Yue!" the beast shouted again, much closer this time. Cerberus was clearly running up behind him. "Come on! You'll hurt yourself!"

The sorcerer smirked. Flight feathers perked with excitement as a gust of wind whipped past them. Crouching down to give himself the greatest jumping start possible, Yue glanced over his shoulder one last time. Eyes meeting with his brother's, he shouted at the cub exactly what he could do with his worry, and even suggested a few choice places he could shove the remnants (if Cerberus had been human, he would have gone completely scarlet). Then, with a mighty beat of his wings, he threw himself back into the sky.

Breeze, timing, and lift on his side, this time the boy skyrocketed several stories into the air with only a few powerful flaps. Somewhere in the distance, he heard Cerberus gasp, and a dark sort of delight welled up inside him. Serves that little brat right, the mage mused contentedly to himself. Flight muscles screamed under this new, intensive strain, but Yue bitterly bid them onward—gasping for breath as his entire upper body contracted and relaxed in time with their beating. Immense size still slowed his wings, but with the added bonus of altitude, they caught the air better with each stroke. Surely, he should be able to get to a gliding height at least! He bobbed like a cork in the gale: gravity beginning to drag him back down, and his unceremoniously flapping wings just barely managing to equalize its pull. Now if he could just get one good current—!

Then, a great many things happened.

A sudden gust of wind kicked up from the south and hurtled over the place where Yue was struggling to ascend. Feathers were sent askew. The precarious lift beneath the boy shifted unexpectedly. Long, unkempt hair was sent flying in all directions. Before the mage had a clue what was going on, he found himself gliding rapidly downward, the air current beneath him giving way. Desperately, blinded by a flurry of plumage and plait, he tried to pull up—to catch an updraft somewhere! But he simply could not move fast enough—he didn't know what he was doing! A high-pitched sound echoed throughout the glade—screaming. Someone was screaming. Who? Why? He felt both of his wings flailing around in a frenzy on either side of him, but they couldn't seem to agree on when to flap—or even which way was up!

Flight musculature constricted completely of its own will, and it became almost impossible to draw breath. The sorcerer's head began to spin—as his body must assuredly have been. Sparkles erupted into his disoriented visual field. The screeching from the ground reached its most fervent pitch, but he couldn't identify its source. He was moving somewhere very fast…

The last thing Yue Reed noticed was a sudden sharp pain in his temple before everything suddenly got very very blac—

…

…

Everything was very still where he was now—and quiet, so very quiet. His head was positively throbbing. Damn this incessant migraine.

Something was tugging rather insistently at the edges of his senses, but he was hesitant to respond. His head pounded even more violently as it goaded him into consciousness. Oh, what was it _this time_? If it was that wretched _boy _again and his relationship troubles—! Yue sighed mentally, even thinking about that blundering idiot was making his headache worse. If the dolt would just _come clean_ about what he wanted already—!

But no, he realized a moment later, it wasn't his unfortunate… err… 'housemate'. Damn. There was nothing for it then, he would have to leave the solace of oblivion. It was too bad… he had been having the most fascinating dream. He'd genuinely believed for a moment that he was back at Reed Manor—some fifteen years old again. He'd imagined that he was out meandering about with Cerberus as he had done back in his youth… how long it had been since he'd though about _those days! _He chuckled sarcastically to himself: Well, no matter—times like those would never exist again. His relationship with his 'brother' had reached an irreparable pitch long ago. Still, why should he have been dreaming of 1683? He'd thought he had given up brooding about the far past… and why '83 of all times? The _last_ year of his childhood—mere months before the Reed family went completely downhill! Couldn't he have at least dreamt of something a little earlier…a little more meaningful?

The tug on his senses was getting stronger now, and Yue could ignore it no more. Forcing his exhausted soul into consciousness, he let the memories of the past few minutes flood over him: A ring at the door. The embarrassed face of a young brunette girl. Ah, so _she_ was here, was she? How quaint—yet another person who could not simply own up to her feelings and be done with it (of course, as if he was one to talk). She had a little present for her crush, then? Touching, but what the hell did any of it have to do with him? Honestly, what was the point of having that _boy _around anyway if the twit couldn't even deal with trivial matters for him? Already, even the strain of awakening was making the sorcerer's head spin and he had half a mind to go back to sleep. The moon was new tonight, and truth be told, he wasn't feeling particularly well… He supposed he shouldn't have expended so much energy chasing after that Li brat earlier. Still peeking from inside the void, the magician felt a sickening lurch somewhere deep inside him. He was too weak for this… he didn't even need his empathic intuition to tell him that this girl on his doorstep was little more than flustered. Surely she wasn't in any genuine distress that required his presence. Couldn't he just…?

No, something was wrong.

If Yue had been in corporeal form at the time, he was quite certain he would have gone pale. Without meaning to, his magical senses scanned the scene around him. For a second there, he was sure he had felt—! His consciousness wavered even at this modest usage of his powers, fortunately, it seemed he hardly needed them. A split-second later, light filled the entire porch—light of a completely unnatural source! Beside him, the timid young girl gasped audibly as the spell consumed them and a new sensation quickly washed over Yue's senses: Terror—her terror! This was another attack like the rain! She was in danger—Sakura was in danger! The magician cursed loudly—he could have kicked himself for being so inattentive! Weakness and migraine completely forgotten, he reached out across the void and yanked 'Yukito' back to him. Every part of his survival instinct protesting, he forced the transformation between them, whispering a silent spell to Yukito's soul as they passed. Whatever magical phenomena was afoot, he would make certain the boy wouldn't not remember—he had power left for that at least!

The transformation completed, Yue parted his wings immediately, not even taking the time to properly orient himself. They were still standing on Yukito's doorstep as they had been a moment ago, but something about the scene was very different. Sakura was rooted to his immediate left, wide green eyes frozen with shock at something just on the horizon. Vision swimming only slightly, he followed her gaze.

And his fingers suddenly went very numb—if he hadn't paled already, he most certainly was now!

Looming above them was a monstrosity of cotton and faux fur some five stories tall. The presence of a powerful enchantment still hung about the air; for a split second, the creature seemed consumed by it—unaware that two perfectly good victims were standing mere meters from its fuzzy feet. What—what _was _this thing!? Quickly, while their attacker was still distracted, he scanned it with his magic. It was no living being: it pulsed with the stench of another wizard's magic, not an aura of its own. It was a golem—albeit a very _simple_ golem, but completely soulless one way or the other. Self-consciously, Yue felt something inside him begin to flutter like a frantic butterfly. A golem: he hated golems. And this sort of magic meant—!

At once, the beast snapped out of its stupor. It turned its stitched, smiling face down upon the two figures on the Tsukishiros' porch. As black, unfeeling eyes flickered over Yue, he instantly realized its intent. Hurriedly, he turned to the young girl beside him, but Sakura's face was still alight with shock—she was rooted to the spot. Somewhere off to the side, a high-pitched scream cut across the night. High. Squeaky. Foreign. Cerberus!

"_Abunai!_" it screeched in warning as the animated horror above aimed an enormous blow at the magician pair. Yue blinked. What? A part of him understood the lion perfectly, but for some reason… The way Sakura stared, she might not have understood her companion either. As the bear drew back its fist, she remained unmoving—completely stunned.

Lunging into action, Yue managed to grab the dumbfounded child around the waist just in time to spiral them both out of the line of fire. Beating his wings as hard as he could, he pulled them safely into the air, missing their attacker's paw by far too narrow a margin; with a horrible crash, its blow splintered the porch boards behind them.

Sakura was screaming now, apparently at last aware of how close she had just come to getting crushed to death—by a giant teddy bear of all things! _Her _teddy bear! She threw her arms gratefully around his neck, squeezing him so hard that, for a moment, Yue faltered. With difficulty, he flapped his wings against the low-bearing air currents. Damn, this angle of takeoff was not going to be an easy one! But if he were to land so near to this monster—! Gritting his teeth, the mage managed to drag both himself and a trembling Sakura into the skies, but his weakened body protested heavily. He didn't even get the chance to reassess their situation—their plush foe could have been anywhere for all Yue could notice. Without warning, he felt himself stagger—wings halting for a moment as they parted the breeze. Something deep inside him gave a horrible lurch. No, he thought weakly. No, please. Not here…! It all happened within a matter of seconds: Pain erupted out of his chest as if someone had just stabbed him—it flooded through the sorcerer's body like boiling liquid. He gasped for breath, heart pounding in his breast as if it might burst. Sakura's tiny body suddenly felt a leaden weight.

No. He'd used too much magic. It was too late in the cycle. Every ounce of his flesh screamed with need: for oxygen, for nourishment! But fast though his blood was suddenly racing, it had little to deliver. His metabolism dropped like a rock—something had to give! He needed more power! More power or less body!

Yue realized what was happening the split second before his magic activated. No! Not that! They were three stories in the air! But his entire being had just switched into survival mode, and he was helpless to stop it. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he wrapped his arms around Sakura in a protective embrace. He needn't see what fate was coming to him, but he would make sure that it was _he _who bore it! Inborn magic wrapped itself around his vast, feathery wings, bidding them to hide themselves once more—to stop expending so much of his precious energy. Sakura noticed what was happening the instant before they vanished. Her ear-splitting scream consumed all of his senses as they hurtled back towards earth.

Yue braced himself bitterly for the impact: how close were they now? Thirty feet? Twenty? He prayed that she at least would be all right—the brunt of the impact should be his. He was falling again: falling through the air just like in that dream he had been having. How strange that he should have chosen to dream about 1683… Cries of terror were filling the night air again: someone in the distance was screeching their names.

"_Sakura! Yue!"_

That had to be his wretched brother… Cerberus, he had been screaming that day at the manor too. How frivolous it all seemed now. The wind around them reached its most fervent pitch, and he knew they would be striking ground soon. He hoped silently that this time would be as painless. Last time, in that spring of '83, he had barely felt crash. He could only just remember a sharp stabbing sensation to the side of his head before everything had gone black. Before he had—

…

…

Someone was shouting again… shouting from somewhere far away…

"_Daijoubu!?" _

It was a feminine voice. _Her _voice. Sakura's. But for some reason… he wasn't understanding her properly. As he had noticed earlier that evening, her words seemed strange, foreign… They were even more so now.

"_Yue-san!"_ she screeched from somewhere above him, _"Yue-san! Daijoubu!?"_

He couldn't answer her. He didn't have the strength. He couldn't remember the language… it was almost as if he hadn't learned it yet. As if he really was an awkward teenager back in the seventeenth century… But there were other voices as well—distant voices, like a forgotten memory that was only now filtering back into his brain. Someone else was hovering over him, shrieking at the top of his lungs. It sounded… he could have sworn it sounded like his brother—like Cerberus—back when they were little… He was calling to somebody—frantically. He sounded so terrified. Calling to their former master…

To Clow. But why should anyone be yelling for Clow? It was 2002; Clow was—! Clow had _long been_—!

There was another voice. Soft. Deep. Masculine. It was getting much closer to him now thanit had been before. "Don't move him…" It was so very familiar… much more familiar than that little girl and her foreign tongue. He could still hear Sakura's summons, but he suddenly seemed to be moving away from her. A rougher tone was echoing through his ears now.

"Yue!"

He knew that voice. He wanted to go to it—to run to it!

"Yue! Can you hear me?"

Lightly, he felt coarse hands brush over him—someone nudging him ever so slightly. They seemed much more real now than whatever was going on in that futuristic century. The young sorceress' cries became fainter and fainter as he felt himself drawing back to consciousness. His confusion was fading: That's right. It was 1683. He'd been out trying to fly—fighting with Cerberus! And that voice… that voice that was calling him! Clow!

The things he had seen were slipping away from him; the world of the present was quickly replacing them in his mind. No! That girl! She was the one—the one Clow and Cerberus needed! The one they were seeing! He had to retain—! He let Sakura's image fill his thoughts: her brown hair, her pale complexion, her green eyes.

Sakura!

Sakura!

SAKURA!

The picture began to fade. He couldn't remember now the details of her face, her appearance. But one single revelation lingered, echoing in his thoughts: her name. With what strength he had left, Yue dragged that one tiny fact with him across the threshold—

Into the conscious world again.

_AN: Awww, poor Yue got a boo-boo! He really is accident prone in his youth, isn't he? So far he's had frostbite, fever, and two separate sprains XP On second thought, perhaps his track record isn't as bad as everyone keeps harping on him. Could Clow and Cerberus perhaps be worrying about him a bit _too_ much? This chapter fought with me tooth and nail. With the exception of Yue's 'vision' sequence and Clow's little soliloquy, every scene in this chapter was completely written, deleted, and re-written at __**least**__ once! I persevered in the end, though and got it posted for you all. X3 There were a _ton _of stupid quotes/ Easter eggs in this one (I guess artistic frustration breeds dorky quotation? :P)! Cerberus brought us "a plushie trying to pretend he's got fangs", but bonus points to anyone who can pick up on who/where some of the other references come from (I think I may have lost a few in the rewrites… not sure…). :3 "Apparently even remembering can hurt" is my situational translation of __「ちょっと思い出したことにダメージをうけてるらしい」__for those that might recognize the direct quotation. Also, the candle thing I hinted at briefly won't truly come up until much later, but some may recognize now what I'm getting at ;) Oh, and if anyone's curious, the kanji Cerberus described as star-like looks like this: _「迷」. _I showed it to an American friend and asked how she would describe it; she said it looked like "a twinkle star with a little shooting tail and a line under it", which became my inspiration for Cerberus' basal description. (For some reason, I always hear grown-up Cerberus with an American accent in English X3)_

_Chapter 17 has been started—the last chapter before the England Arc finale, which will span chapters 18 and 19. Only four cards remain to be sealed: one more of them will join the ranks of the deck next chapter, but which one will it be? A vicious storm looms on the horizon—but is the last cards' wrath really all that threatens the Reed family? Or is it merely the first band of an even greater typhoon? ;)_


	17. The Month of Maying

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

_AN: Well, I still can't contact my beta, school hit me hard this semester, and then my computer died—with the un-backed-up, half-way-finished copy of Ch 17 STILL ON IT! T_T Sooooo I rewrote the whole chapter for everyone. Well, at least I did *something* right this semester. Enjoy. _

_**Part Four: Card Games**_

…

…

'Black' didn't even begin to describe it.

'Black' implied a color, you see, and there most certainly was none of that. No, there was no color to it at all; it was just 'dark', 'cold'. If nothingness had a look to it, this would certainly be it, but that was very subjective. Not a good description at all, really.

At any rate, there wasn't really anything. Nothing I could see. Nothing I could hear. Nothing in the least. And yet, somehow I was here. Somehow I was vaguely aware of this thing that didn't exist…conscious of it. Even though, I suppose, there was no 'it' to be conscious of. I'm not even certain there was a 'me', now that I think on it.

And who exactly are you, anyway? Who the hell am I even talking to about all this? Just who is it I seem to feel the need to explain myself to? Unless I'm merely trying to explain it to myself, but that seems an awfully silly thing to do. I mean, if there's something here to be explained, can't I just acknowledge it nonchalantly and have done with it? Is there really any need for all this rambling, all this… thinking?

God, I've got to stop thinking. Not entirely sure why, but I have got to stop thinking. Why can't  
I just stop thinking?

If I keep it up, I might end up with answers, here, and I'm not entirely sure I want that. Something tells me I don't want answers. If I could just stop thinking. Rest… just rest…. You were doing it a moment before. It's nicer here. Cold. Silent. Black…

…

…

It really isn't 'black'.

Damn it all, there it goes again.

…

"…"

…

Sound is creeping in on you. You're not entirely sure when it started. You're not entirely sure it's happening at all. But somehow, there is a thing—a thing you remember existing called sound. And there's suddenly a lot of it.

Everything is muffled. Like it's coming in through miles of water. Snuggled tightly beneath the water. In a nice peaceful cocoon. Something is sloshing about around you, inside you. Not entirely sure what. The water? But then, it isn't really water, is it? And then there is another sound. Soft. Low. Like a deep, resonating drum. It doesn't go away. The other sounds come and go, but this one is your ever-steady companion. All of this is inside the water, but there is something else—something less-distinct. It was outside the water. It was coming in from somewhere above. It was a very different kind of sound, and too distorted to hear here beneath the waves.

…

"…!"

…

Who are you? Where are you? Where are you little noise, little voice? You are you, not I. But, where…?

…

"**What…it,…-ow?"**

…

Another sound, another voice, echoes through the waters. The waters that aren't black. The colorless waters of nothingness. The nothingness of—

…

"**Why…his eyes closed?"**

…

Who were you? Who were _they_? And where? Slowly, things were getting clearer—the sound was getting clearer. Not just muffled noises through the water anymore. They're understandable now—I can understand them now… Or can I?

…

"**He isn't…n't…is he?"**

…

The second voice was becoming higher now, shrieking. His cries shook the waters. Makes me want to scream almost. Retreat. Retreat back into the void. The drumbeat was more welcoming. Closer. Steady. Low. Around him. Inside him. No, not him. Me. Not him, not the one they're talking about. I'm not the one they're talking about.

…

"…breathing." The first voice echoes in reply. I like him better. Softer. Kinder. Gentler. His voice is low. Like the humming drumbeat. He's the one I can't ignore.

Breathing. Am I breathing? Do I even have that kind of existence. It doesn't seem to exist here in the void.

…

"…e?"

…

_A broken little boy lies upon the ground. Early summer heat rains down upon his inanimate form. He can feel it, just barely. It is uncomfortable as it radiates upon his exposed skin. Sweat lines his flesh. All parts of his body. He's broken. He can feel it. Pain. Stiffness. The infant in him wants to cry if he had the strength. He doesn't. _

_Broken. Motionless. _

_The grass has become itchy against his flesh but he cannot move. His body cannot move. It won't obey his commands. He has no command to give. _

_Dead? No, he knows he isn't dead. A part of him wishes otherwise—the infantile part. The part that wants to cry and make the pain go away. The part that doesn't want to be paralyzed like this anymore. The weak part. No, he knows he isn't dead. He's breathing. He's still breathing. He can feel it. Feel his chest expanding. Feel his sticky flesh slinging past itself. He gave no conscious order for it, but he can feel it. The only damned thing his body seems to be able to do on its own. Without his mind. Without his will. He tries to stop it—tries to let the effort slide—but he cannot. Each time, the sting in his chest becomes too great. The body will have none of it. The broken body. The motionless body. The one sprawled at odd angles across the itching grass. No… he needs the energy. He needs the strength… He can't waste—Can't it stop?_

…

"…e?"

…

No. I can't know that. I can't be part of it. It isn't me. It's him. It's the one they're talking about. It can't be—!

…

"…e? Can you hear me?"

…

The waters were churning. All of a sudden, his cocoon was being shattered on all sides. Lights, sounds, memories, sensations! All of it came rushing back to him in a split second. The body upon the ground contracted, arms clenching against the rush—the pain. The ocean was gone. It hadn't receded, it had exploded. It had instantly been blown apart like a Chinese firework. Like a rifle firing. It flew into the air and vaporized all around him.

...

"…e? …e, wake up!"

…

One word. That was the only one he still could not hear. The sounds were made, but they did not make sense. What is the word? Who are you calling? Me? The boy? The crumpled body? Or are we the same after all? Am I the one lying it the dirt? Paralyzed? In pain? Unable to goad myself back inside my mind? Back into control? Am I the one? I don't want to be…

And yet there was one other sound. Something soft, faint. It might have been a memory—_my_ memory! Something I dared not forget. A flash of pink. A child's laugh. A little girl's cry. Soft pink petals drifting across a star-strewn sky.

And a name, one single name.

I had to remember it: it was important! A name…_her_ name.

…

"…e!"

…

And at last they're coming through—that word. That one word that I couldn't hear. That I couldn't understand. Like a dam bursting—like a bubble popping—like a bell chiming, I at last knew what it meant. I could hear them. They were calling me. _He_ was calling me.

But the girl, the name! I had to remember! They needed it! I was nearing the surface now—the world above seemed like it was marred only by a few inches of water. I could just glimpse the other side through the ripples. I grabbed hold of her name—grabbed hold of it like a lifeline! With all of my being, I wrapped around that name. All other things about her would be forgotten—they were already slipping away. But not that. They needed that. That fact.

With what strength I had left in me, I dragged her name with me across the divide:

Sakura. _Sakura._ _SAKURA!_

"YUE!"

…

**Chapter 10, The Month of Maying**

Yue Reed opened his eyes.

The first thing he was truly aware of was that it was very bright—very bright. So bright in fact that it burned at his eyes until they watered. He couldn't see a thing—he was blinded by the light, by the brilliance. In contrast to the black nothingness of before, everything was now stark white. Why was it so bright? What—? But he didn't truly get time to contemplate his question or even finish forming it in his mind. For at that second, the entire world instantly sped up.

His body instantly took over.

Pain—pain like nothing he had felt before shot all throughout his body as if his very soul was on fire. A whole army of butterflies pounded against his chest, each seemingly flapping in completely different times. His flesh screamed out for air—for rescue. Without consent of his mind, his body arched back and gasped for air until even his shoulders were throbbing in time.

There were still voices. They were coming from somewhere just above him, but once again he had lost the ability to understand them. They were speaking far too quickly—like the tiny patter of mice!

What was happening? Why was everything suddenly moving so fast? The young mage couldn't take much more of it—he thought he might just burst! Anything had to be better than this—_anything! _Why, _why_, hadn't he stayed there in the nice dark abyss? He felt like being sick.

Even as he thought on it, another wave of pain shot throughout his consciousness. It wracked his body like an electric shock. Hot. Burning. Shocking. All-consuming. Once again, his arms and legs contracted fiercely, and he felt himself give a terrible jerk. Limbs were fighting fiercely at something—something trying desperately to hold him down. He fought and strained against them, feeling the power of the powerful force that was bearing down upon him. The butterflies inside him were now a welding hammer beating upon his breastbone. He couldn't take it! He couldn't hold up! He could feel a trembling, clenching hand hovering itself above the place where the welder was surely about to break through!

…

And then a lot of things happened.

The outside noises stopped. His entire musculature suddenly became limp and flaccid. Limps collapsed weakly down in whatever positions they had been struggling in. His breath caught in his throat. For a moment, a sensation like jet of bubbles erupted inside his chest, and the hammering stopped…

And when it started up again a moment later, it was a fast but steady pulse. Like a tiny metronome had found its way inside of him, putting in line all the unmetered chaos. The resounding beat echoed throughout his flesh. And slowly, he began to breathe again: deeply, steadily, in time with the new meter that was resounding within him. The blinding brilliance began to recede. A flash of color took its place—bright color, far more vibrant than should have been possible in this world. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the brightness faded away, and a blurry, slightly-muted scene swam before his eyes.

"There we go," a dark figure cooed as it loomed over him, "There's a good boy." A gently, slightly shaking hand tousled his hair comfortingly. His voice was deep and soothing, relief evident it every aspect of its tone. Yue felt himself relax just a little more listening to it. He closed his eyes again and let the kind touch stroking his head overwhelm his senses. "That's it," he whispered again as his fingers ran through silky tresses, "Just breathe."

"C-can he hear us?" a meek, frightened-sounding voice echoed from the mage's other side. He knew that voice; he recognized its childish, cracking sound. He knew who they both were, but try though he might, he just could not reach out to them—not at the moment.

"I think so," the first voice murmured across the way. "Yue," he chided softly near the boy's ear, "Yue, can you hear us?"

The boy made to respond—to say _something_ at least to let them know that he was here, in this body, that he knew who they were. But the sound simply would not come out. The noise died in his throat and came out as little more than a shuddered breath.

He could hear his rescuer whispering words of reassurance as he continued to pet his long, flowing hair, and did not make the effort to speak again. Instead, he lay in repose, waiting for his other senses to wake up fully. He was lying on the ground, that was certain, though how he had gotten out here, Yue was not altogether sure. For some reason, he couldn't remember. He must have gotten out here somehow—he could feel grass scratching at him from below, feel it tickle the awkward, sprawled arrangement of his limbs. He wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten in this position either; he was hardly in good posture for lying: his neck, head, and upper torso were lying easily on his right side, the corresponding arm cast somewhere in the groundcover before him. But his lower body was completely twisted at a different, legs bent asunder at the joints. His wings were released and spread widely to either side, the right one slightly numb as it bore the weight of the rest of his body against it. He couldn't even recall why he had summoned his wings… There must have been a reason, but it was as if a giant plug had lodged inside his mind, blocking the flow of thoughts. He shivered slightly as a cool breeze whipped by, stinging at his flesh. He was wet all over from the cold sweat still pouring out of him even as he shivered—far wetter than he would have believed possible. He felt more like he had been cast into the lake—and might have suspected as such if not for the fact that a soft hand was still stroking his dry, matted hair. Whatever had happened to him, Yue thought to himself as the urge to be sick suddenly began rising in his throat again, perhaps he didn't _want_ to remember.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed already—perhaps a lifetime, or perhaps only a moment—but gradually, he began to notice himself becoming more aware. For one thing, there was something quite hard resting beneath his head. The breeze not only lapped at his skin, but his feathers as well, and he could feel it run through each of them individually as it passed him by. He was aware of the two individuals murmuring above him, though he had stopped listening to their exact words. Just the sound of their voices was enough at this very second to keep him tethered to this fickle consciousness. It soothed his aching body like a lullaby. He was also aware that, in addition to the hand petting him, there was another clutching at his left wrist. The fingers were hard and calloused against his tender flesh, as if they had already been marred by a lifetime's worth of odd work. They were holding him at the wrist, just beneath the base of his thumb; their touch was not particularly stabbing, but it was firm nonetheless, and held steadfastly in place. Yue couldn't even begin to fathom the meaning of this contact, but if his rescuer was whom he believed it to be, then assuredly there _was_ a reason. It was also holding Yue's own left hand against his abdomen just beneath the base of his ribs; as he felt it rise and fall, he realized that it must have been feeling for his breath. Someone was clearly very worried about him.

Taking a moment to prepare himself, the mage opened his eyes again. The flash of light was shorter this time and less intense. The scene around him was still blurry—and he could only see it through one eye, since the right one was pressed against the ground beneath him. But it was not as disorienting as it had been previously. His vision still swam slightly, as if his eyes were not completely under his control; but nevertheless, he could now make out the details of the shadowy male figure that was leaning over him. He had long dark hair which was only half contained in its ponytail; sweaty flyaway strands were jutting every which way, as if he had fought his way through a typhoon to get here. A dark cloak flanked his sides—nothing he would have ever worn down to the village; it covered a ruffled white shirt which lay beneath, also soggy with perspiration. Glasses, slightly askew on his face, glinted in light of the midday sun.

Forcing his protesting facial muscles into a small smile, he mouthed the man's name. Clow smiled in return, once again stroking the boy's hair.

"Well," an agitated, high-pitched voice squealed from Yue's immediate left, "S-say something. Yue, say something!" He too was clearly very worried about him, though the young blond could not clearly think of why. For a moment longer, he remained silent, gathering his strength before he tried to respond. Why was it so difficult to form the words? To make himself speak? Vague memories floated through his mind—not from whatever had caused this bizarre scenario, but from the void. Voices he had heard in the nothingness and just barely understood….

"_Clow!" a terrified voice screeched, "Clow! Come…! …-y! Yue's hurt!" his cried faded in and out, as if he was moving closer and farther away from them. There was the vague sound of something moving very quickly in the nearby vicinity, but he didn't register it. From somewhere above, a deep masculine voice commanded: _

"_Don't move him."_

Swallowing hard, shadows from the nothingness still whirring in his brain, Yue at last found his voice. It was very weak, very soft, and tremored upon every syllable, but the words came through all the same. "Stop worrying, Cerberus," he murmured; pausing to take a breath, he added as slyly as he could: "You little bastard."

"Thank goodness!" The cub exclaimed, tearfully throwing himself against Yue's back and nuzzling him lovingly.

But even as he tried to chuckle at the pathetic state of his elder brother, the mage's right temple suddenly sent yet another electric surge of pain through his body, causing the scene in front of him to momentarily go black. Breath caught in his throat as he suppressed the urge to scream, and a dizzying wave of weakness shook his tiny frame. Reflexively, he rolled himself onto his back, removing whatever pressure against his skull was causing all the agony. At once, a second wave of torturous pain erupted through his frail body. His limbs contracted, clenching every muscle he had tightly towards his torso. At once, the hammer inside his chest returned with a vengeance, filling his ears with an incessant pounding—pounding which seemed to consume every aspect of his existence. Pounding which, he was sure, would whether away his breastbone any second now. Desperately, he panted at the air, arching his back and raising his shoulders with each gasping breath. The pain was too much this time—it would break him! Instantaneously, the boy felt something hot splatter across the right side of his face; it trickled down his neck in little streamlets, and suddenly the space around him was filled with the weak odor of something metallic which had just been disturbed.

Still extremely disoriented and blinded by the pain, he just barely perceived Cerberus making a startled squeaking noise at his side. "Is that…" the cub piped, agitation clear in his voice, "Is that _blood_!"

Yue suddenly felt a leaden weight drop into his stomach.

"Ac-actual _blood_?" the little lion continued, cries rising even higher in pitch than they had been before, "Like from _inside_ his… inside his…"

There was the sound of something rather heavy hitting the ground, and then silence. Yue's senses were suddenly filled with nothing but the sounds of terrible cacophony resonating inside of him. Then, from out of nowhere, a pair of strong arms snaked themselves around him on either side. The hand holding his wrist had let go and had somehow snaked itself around his torso. The other hand, which had been petting his hair found its way to the back of his neck, and was supporting it carefully as it lowered him gently onto the grass. There was the sound of something shifting around at his feet, and a moment later, he felt someone lifting his legs, lightly resting them at an angle up against one of the nearby boulders.

Magically, the urge to be ill on himself subsided and the pounding fell slowly back into the metronomic order it had been in previously. Body relaxing, he watched as the dark clouds obscuring his vision gradually faded away. In their place, the misty image of Clow's face appeared, hovering above his young son, wearing a rather worried expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked, wiping a fresh rim of sweat from his brow.

At first, Yue tried to nod in reply, but his head suddenly felt ten times heavier than usual and throbbed unhappily at the movement. Squeezing his eyes shut a moment, he replied softly a second later "Yes, I think so…" While still desperately weak, he was proud to hear that the shaking had gone from his voice.

Clow appeared to be reassured by this fact too, for he let out something like an exasperated chuckle and, wiping something away from his eyes, bend down to address the mage more directly. "Yue," he murmured kindly, caressing the boy's cheek with his nearest hand, "Yue, you've got a pretty nasty-looking wound here on the side of your head. I'm going to need to take a look at it, all right?" his voice broke as he spoke the last, and as he continued, Yue could have sworn there were tears in his eyes. "And-and I'm afraid it's probably going to sting a bit—"

"'s all right," the young blond muttered softly in reply, violet eyes meandering up to meet Clow's tearful blue. The wizard let out one more sound that sounded half like a laugh, half like a sob, and nodded his understanding. Yue felt him shift at his side, soft robes billowing as the sorcerer moved amongst the grass. With the utmost care, the light touch of fingers began to pull back his hair and feel around the area of Yue's skull that was throbbing so terribly in protest.

Yue closed his eyes tightly. Taking a deep, hissing breath as the fingertips made contact with his tender flesh, the mage pressed onward with the conversation—desperate for anything to distract him from the very necessary pain. "Wha-what happened to Cerberus?" he choked as his right temple gave another stupendous throb.

"He fainted," came Clow's reply, "He was, um… he was very worried about you, Yue. I think the stress got to be a little too much for him." He paused, brushing more mangled hair away from the edge of his son's scalp, and then continued less confidently: "I think perhaps the sight of his little brother splattered in his own blood… was just a little too much for him." (By the sound of his voice, it might not have been just Cerberus that it was 'a bit too much for'.)

"Is it," Yue started to ask, swallowing hard against a throat which seemed to have suddenly become dry, "Is it that bad?"

Clow sighed heavily. His hands froze momentarily in their work. "I don't think it's as bad as it looks," he said at last, now feeling the area surrounding the immediate wound, "…but it _looks_… well, it looks pretty bad."

Yue sighed, something like hot bile starting to rise up inside him again. There was one question—one question he had to ask. "Clow," he began tentatively, "Clow, what happened to me?"

His master gave yet another sigh. "Do you remember anything?" he asked, tone unreadable.

Pausing a second to think, the boy slowly replied: "I remember… I remember getting up this morning," he began for a start, wracking his brains for any detail about the day before all of this, "I remember getting up a bit earlier than usual—can't recall why. I remember combing out my hair. Coming downstairs. Seeing you." His voice trailed off.

Clow made another sound like a tearful half-chuckle. "Yes," replied, "I remember too. You said what a lovely day it was outside: a good headwind." For a moment, the wizard's voice broke, and the young warlock feared that might be all the was going to hear on the subject. Something about this recollection was clearly upsetting the man, but Yue still hadn't the foggiest what it could be. Then, an instant later, Clow began speaking again. "I was sitting in the downstairs study, the one with the big windows on the East side. I was sitting in there when I heard Cerberus yelling from down the lawn. So I ran—ran out there, as fast as I could. And when I got there, you… you were lying on the ground. And he—and Cerberus said you were hurt. That you'd fallen—crashed. Hit your head on one of the rocks. And, for a moment I was afraid that—!" His speech broke off entirely, and Yue was greeted with the sensation of tiny water droplets falling upon his hair.

The lead weight inside him seemingly dropped a few more feet. "Clow," he choked, voice shaking once more. "Clow, what happened—?"

"You were unconscious," the wizard responded, splotched, red face appearing in the corner of the boy's vision once more. His glasses had already been taken off his face, and he gave his eyes a firm wipe with his sleeve before he continued, a little stronger: "You were fully unconscious for over thirty seconds—I couldn't wake you. And when you finally opened your eyes…you weren't in there. They were blank eyes. Just staring, not even moving. Like you weren't even seeing me."

The lead weight had dropped to his toes.

"Am I—" Yue coughed, a sudden urge of emotion leaping into his voice, "Clow, am I going to die?"

"Oh! No, no." Clow responded quickly, voice suddenly brimming with a comforting sureness. "Oh, God, no. Don't even think it. No, it-it's nowhere near that bad. Not fatal, I don't think so. It's nasty, Yue, but I don't—I don't think it's anywhere near that nasty."

Yue let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"No," Clow continued with emotional yet unmistakable confidence as he turned back to the apparent wound near Yue's right ear, "It looks to me like it's mostly superficial—thank the _gods_. It looks like—it just looks like you got a nasty cut to your scalp here when you hit the rock. I-I've seen scalp wounds before—they can bleed like you wouldn't believe. And it doesn't appear that anything is broken. It's even starting to form a rather nice lump up here…"

"Lumps are a good thing?" Yue asked weakly, relief flooding through him like a tidal wave.

"Yes," Clow laughed in reply, clearly feeling the tension break as well, "Yes, lumps are a very good thing. And," he started, once again pausing to wipe something from his eyes, "and what about you? How are you feeling? Nothing else hurt? Nothing numb?"

Once again, Yue had to refrain from shaking his head, which still felt like a thousand-pound weight. "No," he murmured, "Nothing like that. Just a bit…dizzy, I suppose. Nauseated…

"And I've got one hell of a headache," he added in a half-hearted attempt at his usual sarcasm.

Clow chuckled weakly in reply, moving back to his son's side. "Do you think you can sit up?" he asked, offering his arms for support.

Yue made a noise of agreement, and gratefully took both his master's hands. Careful not to move his throbbing head, he pushed against the ground with his wings and allowed Clow to pull him into a sitting position. The scene around him swayed momentarily at the abrupt change of position, and the mage had to brace himself back against the ground to keep from falling. But after a few tense seconds of heavy breathing, the vertigo subsided, leaving just an aching pulse in its place.

"Good," Clow muttered, still holding the boy lightly around the shoulders in case he fainted. "Now, look at me for a second," he whispered, bidding the young blond turn towards him with a gentle finger against his chin. Still slightly disoriented, Yue obeyed without a thought, and let his gaze fall on the shimmering glass of his father's lenses. For a while, all was quiet. Clow peered keenly into his child's eyes, brow furrowed as if he was watching very carefully for something. Whatever he had been looking for, a moment later, he seemed satisfied. "Yes," he murmured warmly, finally daring to smile properly, "Yes, I think you're going to be just fine. Now, let's get you up to the Manor and see if we can't clean up all this red stuff. You want me to carry you?" he asked gently, drawing close enough now that Yue could at last see him in full focus. The sweat upon his brow, the red splotches all across his face, his watery eyes and pink nose. There were even tear stains on his glasses.

"No," Yue replied, forcing his gaze to stare straight—even if just for a moment—into Clow's sparkling azure eyes, "I can stand."

"Are you _sure_?" Clow pressed, though he made no move to stop the boy as he pulled his legs up beneath him and prepared to rise off the ground.

"Yes," the mage replied, panting only slightly as he braced himself against the taller man's shoulders and eased his way onto his feet.

His legs were far were far weaker than he had expected, and still tingling slightly from having been propped up against a rock. He wobbled slightly, frightened for a moment that he was going to fall back into the grass again. But in the space of a heartbeat, Clow was standing too and had rushed to his side. Taking hold of Yue's right arm, he tucked it around his neck. His own free arm, he laced beneath the boy's left, bracing his side and bearing part of his weight. The young blond was about to murmur his thanks when something soft and fluffy at his ankles reminded him of another pressing problem.

"What about Cerberus?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the still-collapsed ball of orange fur lying in the dirt.

Clow ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head down at the young lion who, at almost two years of age, was far too heavy for one man to lift. "I hate to leave him here," he mused aloud, "but there's no way I can carry him back myself—and I can't let you help, you're far too weak…I suppose," he chided a mite uncomfortably, "we have no choice but to just…let him lie."

"Will he be all right if we do that?" The mage asked, tossing a concerned look at Clow—at least, he _hoped_ it appeared concerned: he suspected he still wasn't in full control of his mind and body.

"Oh," Clow stammered, biting his lip, "he should wake up soon anyway… if he has any backbone at all."

Yue threw him a markedly skeptical expression.

"You're right of course," the wizard admitted, once more scratching his head, "Cerberus is, I'm afraid, an insufferable pansy. God, sometimes I wonder if he isn't actually a maid under all that fur."

"Trust me," Yue growled, look of utter distaste playing about his features, "He isn't."

"Yes…" Clow muttered, staring down at the beast, "I suppose not." And with not a further word on the matter, he turned, Yue at his side, and began making back up the lawn.

"Don't—don't you need to draw up water?" the boy asked as he staggered along beside his housemate, eyes falling on the lake just off the cliff side to their left.

"I've actually got another idea about that," his companion chided, a wicked, childish grin playing about his face. He gestured towards his robes, where a rather fat deck of scarlet-and-gold cards were peeking out of the pocket. And, without further ado, the pair slowly made their way up the sloping grounds toward Reed Manor.

…

By the time they had reached the entrance hall of the manor, whatever sudden burst of strength Yue had found within him was nearly depleted once more. Hugging the boy with one arm as they limped their way through the doors, Clow could feel his ribcage rising and falling like a pendulum—heaving with effort. Eager to find somewhere to lay the child down, the elder magician compared his options. Both he and his sons slept in the upper wings of the house—a floor above where he was now standing. The reason had seemed simple at the time: that portion of the house was newer, and as such, the bedrooms were nicer from the more recent decades of habitation. At the moment, however, it was posing a unique problem. The lower part of the house was much more timeworn and had probably once encompassed all of the living chambers. That meant there had to be sleeping quarters down here somewhere; but off the top of his head, the only ones Clow could think of were the old servant's chambers around the central hall—and they hadn't been opened in _ages_. And no matter how tough a face the young warlock was putting on, his father knew full well that he would never be able to climb the stairs to the second landing.

Clow Reed paused one moment longer, feeling Yue droop like a flower upon his shoulder, before he at last made his choice. "Come on," he murmured to the boy beside him, leading them both towards the base of the stairs. As they reached the bottom banisters, he suddenly swooped his free arm out from beneath his son's. Before the mage even had a chance to protest, it had swept beneath him and scooped his entire body into Clow's embrace.

"Wh-where are we going?" the somewhat ruffled blond stammered as he shifted awkwardly against his master's chest. He seemed to be aware that he was not only much closer to his companion at the moment, but also of the unique position in which he was now being carried. Clow chuckled quietly to himself—amused at Yue's flustered reaction. He supposed he couldn't blame his little angel: after all, he had heard from his three years here that European men often carried their new brides home this way. Not exactly an accurate reflection of the magician's motives at the moment, but even _he_ had to admit the rather uncomfortable irony…

"Somewhere I know I can take care of you," he replied simply, and so proceeded up the grand staircase, anxious child squirming slightly in his arms.

Making record time, the wizard took a sharp right at the top of the stairs, and headed down towards the west wing, where ivy covered all of the windows like an enormous green hand. He paused only a moment to fumble with a key in his cloak pocket, and swiftly unlocked the door to an ornate crimson study. This particular location he imagined both of his sons recognized by now—for they had both been here on several occasions; but today, Clow did not stop there as he had done in the past. He did not stop amongst the furniture and the heavy curtains and the little writing desk. He did not settle his precious cargo upon the chairs near the fire nor the chaise lounge by the windows. Instead, he crossed the room and opened the door on the opposite side.

It was hard to imagine that, in the two years they all had lived here, there could be a single room which Yue Reed had not visited (most especially one which father spent so much time in himself), but judging by the mildly-surprised expression upon the boy's face, it was certainly not a place he had frequented: Clow's own bedroom. Like the study which flanked it, the space was flanked with bare stone walls and a dark wooden floor. The windows were covered by the same thick, scarlet velvet as were the ones on the other side of the door, but they were not drawn tightly shut here; beneath them, a thin layer of white fabric let in faded rays of the afternoon sun. The bed, the nightstands, the bookshelves and dressers were all of a deep, shiny, and ornately-carved wood, and the bedding itself was adorned in shades of red and pewter. Unlike the rather airy, carefree atmosphere of the boys' room, it hung heavy with a cool, masculine ambiance.

"It's not much," Clow murmured sheepishly, following Yue's eyes as they soaked in the décor, "but I like to call it home."

Without a moment to spare, he laid the young sorcerer down upon the bed; Yue made no noise in protest, but if the elder man wasn't mistaken, a light flush rose to his cheeks. Letting the boy lay there undisturbed a moment to catch his breath, Clow took the opportunity to step out of the room for a moment and fetch a large bowl and a few rags. Quietly summoning the Watery card, he bid it fill the container to the brim, which it did out of a tiny spray at the card's base. Yue was still lying on the bed rather peacefully, his eyes closed clearly do dispel whatever sort of vertigo was afflicting him. Gravely, the sorcerer let his gaze pan over the broken child as the bowl in his hands silently filled with cool, clear liquid.

Already, he observed with relief, the mage seemed to have regained a little of his color—as much color as he ever had, anyway; where his skin had been an almost grey-ish hue while he was unconscious, it had now faded back to its usual shade of ivory. Despite this mild improvement, however, the he still looked simply dreadful from a concerned parent's standpoint. All over his small frame, the youth was covered in a combination of mud splatter and oozing skid marks. He was completely shirtless at this point, revealing a few nasty abrasions across his chest, and the rest of his clothing was completely a mess with grass and dirt stains. The injury to his scalp was still feebly bleeding, though it seemed to be coming to standstill. All around the right side of the boy's head—from his brow to the place just above his ear, piles of hair were matted in a red, sticky, clotted mess. Strands of fair silvery locks were gathered into bunches and bundles, held stiffly in place by a massive crop of dried blood at their roots. Where the wound had spurt earlier when Yue had moved away from the rock, a long splatter of scarlet had cascaded down the mage's face and dried there like a horrible stain. Between the hair and the clots and the dried redness everywhere, Clow could scarcely see the culprit itself—the cut on the side of the child's head—with any certainty. Clearly the whole area would need to be cleaned before he could get a proper look at it. But on that topic, there was something else that was bothering Clow: just as he had been whilst he was seizing out on the lawn, all of Yue's flesh—from his face to his palms to the soles of his feet practically—was covered in a thick coat of sweat. It rewet the dried mud stains on his arms and torso, and made his garments stick to him like a dirty second skin. Truly, he looked as if he had already been soaked by Watery's magic and yet Clow hadn't even touched him.

The tense sorcerer bit his lip: he was slowly coming to a rather uncomfortable conclusion.

Making up his mind, Clow solemnly crossed the room and knelt down at the mage's bedside. "Yue?" he whispered softly, hoping that the young man had not fallen into a doze. Without a word, his amethyst eyes snapped open and meandered their way over toward the older man; though his gaze was apparently quite unfocussed, his serene expression nonetheless bid his master speak whatever was on his mind. Taking a slow, steady breath, Clow forced himself to continue with the utmost calm—trying his hardest not to let his outer appearance betray the strange conflict of feelings that was beginning to well up inside him. "Do you think you can sit up a little?" he asked for a start.

The blond made a gesture like a nod and, wordlessly once again, pressed himself into a steep reclining position against the pile of pillows at his rear. He still remained absolutely silent and—it was difficult to say, since he still appeared so disoriented—appeared to be surveying his companion as if waiting for him to say whatever grievous thing was weighing on his mind. Clow sighed and rubbed his own temples (which were becoming desperately sore with what felt like a tension headache). Memories of a year's worth of conversations with Cerberus were beginning to float once more back into his consciousness: the beast had often called Yue empathic—almost a mind-reader of sorts. Perhaps the boy did have psychic abilities in that field after all.

"Yue," he whispered again, drawing nearer still to the bed, and reaching up so that he could clasp one of the boy's pale hands in his own, "that cut of yours is looking pretty nasty: I'm going to need to clean it up a bit. But, um…" Clow broke off rather lamely, and cast his eyes downward to where his son's tiny body was trembling beneath cold sweat and caked-on mud. "This is going to sound a bit strange," he started again, a slight heat creeping up into his cheeks, "I think it would be best if we tried to clean up these other scratches a bit and wipe you down before I let you rest. And, under normal circumstances, I would just let you go draw yourself up a bath, but…but given the situation, I—"

"I understand," Yue cut in gently, saving his master from a long chain of awkward stammering. Shocked at receiving such a prompt and cool answer, Clow's head snapped back up at once and his confused blue eyes found their way onto his son's sparkling violet. He—he _did _know what exactly was being suggested, didn't he? For a long moment, they remained like that: gazing into one another's eyes. Silence filled the room until Clow swore he could almost hear the meter of their off-beat breathing. Yue gave his elder a timid but assuring smile; "it's all right," he whispered softly, "…not like it's anything you haven't seen before." ("On June thirtieth, I mean," he amended hastily as an afterthought, "on the night I was born.") Then, sitting up a little straighter, he clasped Clow's hand, still dangling lamely at the bedside. "Help me?" he asked, a rosy flush immediately billowing onto his cheeks.

Nodding (for his throat had suddenly closed up on him too much to speak), the wizard quickly arranged himself into a better position and reached up to aid his younger son. Carefully, Clow's fingers bumbling all the way, they removed the soiled, sodden garments one by one until Yue was lying completely naked on the bed—the liberated flesh of his lower body glistening with perspiration as it greedily licked up the air.

Stepping back to breathe for a moment, Clow busied himself with the bowl of water. He was trying very hard not to think of precisely what situation he was in—of what state of absolute undress the blond beauty behind him was currently lying in. Already, against his will, he could feel his pulse quickening and his heart beginning to pound against his breast like a great expanding balloon. Damn it all! Couldn't he even function as a normal adult human being for one second without dissolving into a hormonal wreck? Honestly, what _was _it about Yue which always made him feel so… beside himself? But when he turned back around, bowl and rags in hand, it was not a beautiful body—a beautiful object which his eyes saw the most. He saw the cuts and the bruises. The pale skin. The blood-stained face. The matted hair. His heart nearly shattered at the sight of it all. His insides still felt as if they were alive with a whole nest of tiny hopping hares, but he was not overcome with uncontrollable desire. Instead, he felt his entire being filled with concern—with compassion. He wanted more than anything else to help this broken boy, not ravish him. He wanted to be by his side and ease his pain, to lull him to sleep and then watch over him all night. The fire was gone, but the affection—dare he even say it—the _love_ remained. He _loved_ this child.

Kneeling once more by his little lunar mage's side, he caressed the boy's face with the small wet rag, wiping away a good deal of the crusted-on blood splatter. That color should never mar the pale loveliness of this innocent beauty—never again. Yue closed his eyes for a moment and smiled contentedly, leaning into his master's touch. Slowly, he repeated the process until only upon the wound itself did the offending hue remain. Then he gradually began to move his work southward: first down his charge's neck, also stained with streams of crimson; then across his shoulders—first the right, then the left; down the front of his chest where sloughs of mud fell away at his fingertips; in and out the whole topography of a tender abdomen; down his thigh… He wasn't entirely sure when Yue had taken up a rag and joined him, but the two of them worked together in silence: Clow in a reverent vigil, Yue in a mindset which only the boy himself could say. After some time, they finished their work, and the angelic youth let out a gentle sigh of contentment as his newly-cleaned skin glistened in the half-light. The small cuts had not bled again as they were washed out, and except for a rather large bruise along the side of his ribs, the child seemed to be fine. Taking as much care as he had to undress him, Clow helped his son beneath the covers of the bed while he turned and began to clean out the more serious injury to the side of his skull.

Yue let his eyes fall shut, and for a long time, they were lost in a quiet reverie. Little by little, his keeper began to clear away the crusted clumps of hair. A red-brown snowstorm of dried flakes gathered at the man's feet as he washed them away. Delecate fingers parted the silver threads, and streaked the warm water across them until the whole of the strands had turned a pale pink color. He applied almost no pressure and stayed away from the center gash as long as possible. Watching for bleeding all the way, he spiraled his way inward, casting away old, dark clots. He realized, as he got down to the bottom of the bloody mess, that things were more or less just what he had predicted out on the lawn: the place that had actually borne the brunt of the impact was already beginning to become a raised and hard lump against the child's skull. While it was undoubtedly quite large for a simple head injury, it was nonetheless reassuring. As he dug deeper, dragging his rag carefully around this most tender area, he watched the pale white skin turn bruised shades of yellow and black. As he neared the top of the hill, the inflamed, red appearance of torn flesh peaked out along the edge of his scalp, where a long, jagged laceration was parting the child's hair. As he had also expected, this must have torn on impact, but at least it appeared to be only a superficial injury—it did not penetrate into the angry lump beneath it. Being careful to leave the scabs which were forming immediately upon the injury site, Clow set his rags down at last. They fell into the bowl beside him, which was swirling with red-stained cleaning water. He gently ran a hand through the long silvery locks framing the mage's face on the uninjured side.

"Yue?" he whispered one last time, unsure if the boy was truly still awake or not this time. To his surprise, violet eyes rolled upon him once more.

"What's my diagnosis, doctor?" he cooed softly, nuzzling himself lovingly against the hand stroking him.

"I don't think there is any permanent damage," Clow whispered in reply, "but you really scared me out there today, Yue. I need you to stay here and rest, all right? You're not feeling any worse, are you?"

"Still just dizzy," Yue remarked tiredly, lying back into his pillows. Something about the glazed look in his eyes still worried Clow—he had heard of head injuries becoming quite serious before, back in China. Clasping the child's limp hand, he discreetly ran his fingers along his wrist, feeling his pulse; despite the elapsed time, it was still flickering fast and feeble like butterfly wings. From the corner of his eye, he watched him breathe, counting each shallow gasp in time.

"You're still a bit weak," commented honestly, concern (and perhaps something else) still trying to tie itself in knots inside his stomach, "may I?" he asked, pulling down the sheets a little at the boy's chest and leaning slightly forward over him.

Yue suddenly flushed a rather brilliant shade of vermillion. "listen…to my heart?" he asked meekly, turning a few shade's brighter. He seemed unable to speak, but nevertheless, a moment later, he lay himself farther back against the pillows, leaving his chest better exposed as if in invitation.

Feeling a bit flustered himself now, Clow took his opportunity while his knees would yet hold out. Still gripping his wrist, he pressed his ear to the boy's breast and listened the resounding echoes within. He was pleased to hear that immediately upon contact, it began to beat harder and race even faster—as if with stage fright. Good, Clow thought to himself as he pulled away. If he was still bleeding inside somewhere, even in…excitement…it shouldn't be able to do that.

Yue was still breathing very fast, even as the contact between them was broken. For a moment, Clow stared into his eyes, a strange kind of anxiety beginning to build up inside him as well. Say something, a little voice urged him, say something, you fool! Now's as good a time as any! Now, while you still have a chance—!"

Lamely, he released Yue's hand. With a trembling hand, he readjusted his glasses, and glanced to his side toward nothing in particular. "I—I should go…" he stammered, making a terribly weak attempt to stumble back onto his feet, "You—you really should be resting…"

"Clow," Yue whispered softly as he turned to leave.

Clow felt a shiver shoot immediately up his spine. He was terrified now—terrified of _this_, though he had no idea why! Gods, it was like he was trying to drum up the courage to ask out some schoolboy crush! Forcing himself into a somewhat composed expression, he looked back in Yue's direction. "Wh-what is it?" he asked, as steadily as he could.

Yue paused a moment, swallowing hard. (Clow was relieved to find that those piercing amethyst eyes were once again closed.) "There's something you should know—before I can forget," he murmured weakly, eyelids squeezing tighter to a moment as if he was fighting off a sudden migraine, "that girl—that one that you and Cerberus keep dreaming about… I don't know why I know, but her name

"is Sakura."

Words spoken, the furrows in the boy's forehead relaxed, his straining limbs released their tension, and with a tiny sigh, he collapsed amongst the sheets—dead asleep. Clow stood there for a minute more, staring at the place where Yue lay, silently slumbering.

At last, he found his voice: "Thank you, Yue," he whispered.

Then, as quietly as he could, he crossed the rest of the room, and shut the door softly behind him. He was surprised, as he turned back into the study beyond the threshold, to find that he was not in fact alone. Twisting about, he found a pair of large yellow eyes blinking tearfully up at him.

"Cerberus!" he yelped in surprise, almost jumping backwards into the doorframe, "I was—I was just coming to fetch you! A-are you feeling all right?"

But the beast, shook his head violently, ears flapping all the way. "Don't worry about me, what about Yue?" he cried, "is he going to be okay?"

Clow chuckled, whatever nerved had been pounding through his system a moment ago slowly beginning to leave him. He knelt down to the creature's eye level and fixed him with a reassuring smile. "I think he's going to be just fine," he replied good-naturedly, "go watch him while he sleeps, will you? And come get me if his breathing changes."

Cerberus nodded vigorously and, leaping up so that his front paws landed on the doorknob, he hurried into the bedroom and closed the door once again behind him. Clow sighed and rubbed his temples as he stood back to his feet. What an afternoon this had been…

As he rose, his eyes fell on the late afternoon light flickering in from a crack in the curtains. Walking over to the window, he cast them open, and surveyed the darkening landscape beneath him. The days were not so long yet as they would be soon. The sun was only just starting to set… And somehow, Clow Reed knew that the next time he would be standing here like this—gazing out his study window, his boys cuddled up in injury and fear in the bedroom beyond—the sun would be just barely setting also. On the other side of the solstice—at summer's end. Whatever change was coming for them, it was coming soon. The time for making decisions was now. If he ever wanted a chance at… well, if he ever wanted _anything_, this was the chance to make his move.

Somewhere in his heart, he knew the opportunity would never quite come again.

…

Spring had dawned in full fervor before anyone could even bat an eye.

In what seemed like no time at all, April had faded away, and a warm, sparkling May had come in its place. The grass all down the lawn had exploded into a jungle of full chartreuse shoots once again, and the trees around them were fat and heavy-laden with fresh new foliage. Birds sang their sweet tunes and bees buzzed happily over the flowers in the front garden. The sounds of music and laughter drifted daily up from the village in the valley below.

Clow Reed sighed as he surveyed the scene and all its splendor from the downstairs window of his little dining nook. He loved the springtime—he really did! It was easily the best time of the year here in England: the weather was mild, the flora was abundant, the people were friendly, and fresh fruits and wines were becoming available down in the town market. Indeed, it was a joyous season. But today, Clow was not loving the beautiful spring atmosphere as he would normally have done. There was something else weighing upon his mind today—something quite serious. He couldn't even hardly finish his morning cup of tea, his hands were already shaking so badly with the anticipation of it all.

It was not a dream or a prophesy or a magical matter of any sort today—oh no. _That_, he could be prepared for—after Cerberus and Yue's birth, there was no incantation or spell, no potion or ritual which frightened him anymore. He was certain he would never feel as a great a hardship magically as he had done to give life to those boys. No, today's affair was of a different nature entirely: An affair of those birds. And the bees. And of Clow Reed, the overgrown adolescent, practically wringing his neck with nerves as he fought up the courage to do something crazy.

He was going to ask Yue out.

As he had said to himself many a time before, things were changing here in the manor—and changing at rapid pace. Two years ago, at about this time, Clow hadn't had a clue what he was doing. He had come here to England with a pile of hasty plans and half-baked ideas. He'd been laden with a load full of pride and boastfulness about his own magical prowess, and not half the spine he had needed to wield it. The sorcerer chuckled nervously into his cup. Why, he'd been so pompous back in those days that he had even told the good doctor down in the village the entirety of his plan regarding Cerberus! He had sat there with Dr. Benjamin Hawkins and spitballed a 'hypothetical' situation in which one could harness—incarnate the most pure spirit of the sun. He had talked about such fantastical things with a _muggle_—here! In a land where magic was forbidden! Where things like 'witchcraft' could get one hanging by his neck come sundown! Yes, he had been foolish in those days…

He could still just remember, the day he had prepared to seal Cerberus, feeling something like this—jittery, quaking. Back then, he had drunk the time away with cheap alcohol and petty frivolities. He was older and wiser than that now. When it had come down to it, he had only been beating around the bush that evening—he had only been wasting time and hiding in fear until the appointed hour had _forced _him to act. It hadn't been courage, it had been cowardice that Clow Reed had showed most that day. And yet, at the time he had thought himself so very wonderful and brave. Yes, yes. How things had changed…

He had been knocked down from his high horse now—Yue, and a thousand other things had done that.

Yue… how far they had come there too… He remembered Yue and he two years ago—remembered the night the boy was born. He had thought himself so wise back then. He had succeeded in sealing Cerberus, and that must mean that he and his plan were unstoppable. But things had not gone according to plan. As usual, the young, naive sorcerer had made a fatal error: he had thrown the universe out of balance by having the sun incarnate, but not the moon. A foolish mistake—childish. And so the 'brilliant' magician had felt his first fall from grace, but still the ego remained… He had had to change his plans that day. It had become obvious that he couldn't wait and have Yue so poetically born on the winter solstice. So he'd taken a risky second option, in a much more impressive show of courage than he had exhibited with Cerberus. He had called upon the power of the blue moon of June thirtieth, sixteen hundred and eighty one—and upon the lunar power of the astrological sign, Cancer—and he had summoned the spirit of his little lunar daemon. But once again, ego had shown its ugly face—the first true appearance, perhaps, of the darkness.

Oh, he had called upon Yue's spirit all right, and the universe had responded. But… Clow winced even at the memory of the pain. But things had gone horribly wrong. Yue, powered by the reflective moon, had needed far more of his power than Cerberus. More of Clow's own spark of life so that his tiny soul could have any chance at all of shining with its own. He remembered the flash of light, the ghostly shape in the sky; he remembered the darkness that had consumed him, and the naked, lifeless body of a little boy lying upon his lawn when he had awakened. The sorcerer shivered to himself and took another long swig of tea. Even from the very start, Yue had stumbled out of the starting gate—because of Clow and his shortcomings and his ego.

Much had happened since then. Another year had passed and they had all survived it. Cards had been sealed in abundance in that stretch of time across 1681 and 1682. There had been bitter fights and impromptu flights; cold winter storms and unexpected charms. The Clow ran a hand through his hair. Oh, had those years ever been 'charming'. He hadn't been expecting it—not in his wildest daydreams—but it had come anyway: Yue. Back in China, Clow had not exactly been a ladies man, but he had not altogether been a failure either. His family, of course, had held their own firm plans for him—get married to a nice noble girl, produce children, continue the Li line, pass down all that juicy power. Of course, he had hated his family—resented them. He had rebelled against them, assuredly; that was what had led him to such devotion towards the magical arts in the first place. But he had not been _so_ reluctant as to pass up an easy date with beautiful women. He had been a teenager, after all! All his life, since he was barely old enough to know that he should like girls, the family elders had brought a series of young ladies to the house to meet him. It had never been the most comfortable affairs, but nor had it been altogether unpleasant. All the girls had always been lovely, and perfectly polite. To a shy young man, they were both a terrible oppression and the most _gorgeous_ curse he could imagine! Oh he had liked the ladies plenty, but as he grew, he had not intended on that being his lifestyle either. When he had left China as a man, he had had no immediate plans of following any of his family's desires—marriage, children, all the things expected of a powerful man of his time. He hadn't been planning on finding himself some woman here in England to do his cooking and cleaning and lie in his bed with him every few nights—not in the least. But he had not been expecting _this_ either!

He had not been expecting that, when he had first seen that fragile little boy lying amongst the grass, it would be the most beautiful sight his virgin eyes had ever beheld. He had fallen head over heels in love with that child, since the instant he first saw him. It had been totally unforeseen. And yet, from the very start, he had had no denial of this fact. He had known from the beginning that he loved this boy—loved him like his teenage self had loved those lovely ladies back in China, but stronger! Far stronger! So strong at times that the longing had almost destroyed him! Had almost made him—! But that wasn't a problem any longer, the heat of last summer was gone. He hadn't meant to love Yue, but for some reason he did. He felt that it should bother him much more than it did: the fact that Yue was in fact a beautiful young _man_, not some fair maid. He knew society would feel that way, but Clow himself simply did not have the feeling in his heart. He didn't _care_. He felt like he should, but he did not. He felt like it should matter… but it mattered not, for some unfathomable reason. Truthfully, the thing that bothered him most was…

What did bother him most?

These two long years now, he had been pining after Yue. What was it really that had stopped him from taking action sooner? From stepping up to the plate with his affections? At first it had been the general shock of the thing. Like he had gone over already, it was not exactly what the ambitious Clow Reed had thought he was signing up for. He had resigned himself to being a strong, independent bachelor, devoting his life to his powerful magical dream! He had hardly anticipated that he would end up pining over the very creature whose creation he had considered to be the pinnacle step in creating his vast enchanted empire. Back then, he had told himself that it was wrong—again, not (surprisingly) because of Yue's gender, but because of the roles between them. Yue was a dependent creature, and just barely below Clow in power (or else, the sorcerer assumed, how could he have had the power to bring them to life?). While the boys' mortal bodies were entirely their own—of an innate design, generating their own independent life and longevity—there was some aspect of the both of them which needed him to sustain themselves. It was a concept he didn't really understand yet himself. While they were both perfectly comfortable and firmly tethered to this mortal plane, it seemed that they required a certain amount of his powers to tap their own vast quantities and maintain their existence. Yue in particular needed it much more than Cerberus (perhaps, Clow thought grudgingly, because of all the other forms of sustenance the beast was constantly indulging in), just as the moon first needs some supplemental light so that it can ignite the whole of the Earth each night. It was a complicated arrangement, but the bottom line of it was that, in some way, Clow was above the pair of them in rank—almost like a father, he liked to think. And as such, at first, he had used that as his excuse to stay away from the boy—to keep his affections to himself. But of course, he had not been terribly successful.

His actions last summer had proven that.

In his visions… in that terrible vision he had awoken to at summer's end last year, he had done the unthinkable. He had hurt his little boy, his precious angel. He had acted like a wild animal—he had raped him, he had _killed_ him! He would never let that nightmarish monster become real—_never! _If that was where repression and pride and ego got him, then he would have none of it. He would be humble.

And he would be honest.

And that brought him to today.

Taking one last deep swig off his teacup, Clow drained it down to the leafy residue at the bottom. He had heard once that some magicians made a craft of reading tea leaves. Glancing down at the dregs, he peered into the shapes in hopes that they might give him some sort of significant sign to bring him courage. They didn't. For the most part, they just looked like a greenish-black blob of wet leaves. Casting them away like proper rubbish, he rose to his feet. He had a mission today—it was now or never. Times had changed here at Reed Manor, and this time he was going to do everything to turn that change in his own favor. It was time to make a move—sensitive, vulnerable and honest.

After all, summer's end was not so far away…

…

"Cerberus, have you seen Yue?" Clow asked as he came bouncing upon the young lion lying on the floor of one of the downstairs hallways.

Cerberus glanced up from his picture book, "Oh," he replied smartly, "you mean our own little _princess_?"

"Pardon?" Clow exclaimed, flushing vividly. What on Earth could the little beast possibly be getting at with all that feminine, preferential terminology? He couldn't know exactly what kind of proposition his master was about to make to the boy! Calling him _princess_ of all things!

Cerberus merely rolled his eyes. "Easy there, stag," he sneered with mild amusement, "I only mean he's acting like a vain little brat at the moment."

Clow raised an eyebrow. "Yue? Acting shallow? Now that's not usually like him."

Cerberus snorted loudly and murmured something which sounded very much like "you don't live with the guy."

Clow Reed sighed. He hadn't signed up for this. He hadn't spent all that time digging up his nerve just to be stagnated here by this little beast and whatever bee in his bonnet he had about his little brother at the moment. "Look, do you know where he is?" he finally managed to spit out with only a slight edge of exasperation.

The lion threw him an odd sort of look—it he had been human, Clow suspected he might have been raising one of _his _eyebrows (but it was impossible to tell on a cat, of course). "Yeah…" he replied slowly, as if studying the agitated wizard before him with curious scrutiny, "he's poking around down in some of the old, sealed-off bedchambers down here on the ground floor."

Clow was slightly taken aback. He had been expecting Cerberus to say the boy was in the library, or out in the garden, or lounging about the east wing, or one of his usual haunts. But, digging around in the downstairs bedrooms? Most of the rooms down here hadn't even been explored to the wizard's knowledge (though that didn't necessarily mean much where the sneaky likes of Yue and Cerberus were concerned). What on Earth could his youngest son be up to in there? On that line of thinking, he turned back to Cerberus. "And what the devil is he wandering around the old bedchambers for?" he asked forcefully.

The beast's face reached its most contorted look yet. Indeed, the way he was looking at his master, Clow might well have been speaking a foreign language. "Uh," he replied in a frank sort of tone, "Xavier's bed suite."

Clow looked even more confused. Cerberus sighed, and flipped his book closed with one paw so that he could face his companion properly. "Honestly, Clow, do you just live in four or five rooms of the house and rotate through them every day?" he mimed the motion with a twirl of a clawed finger. Clow flushed—while a bit of an exaggeration, his son's joking statement did have a grain of truth in it; Clow would be the first one to admit that. Cerberus sighed even more heavily. "Okay, you seriously need to get a life.

"Xavier Reed—the last master of this house—lived down here on the ground floor at least at some point during his life. Yue and I discovered that _months _ago. He had a whole suite down here filled with all his useless stuff, and the man apparently had more different articles of clothing than the Queen of England."

Clow blinked rather stupidly a few times—either his brain wasn't working properly at the moment, or there was a great deal he was missing about this conversation. "Xavier Reed, my father?" he asked for a start.

Cerberus nodded pointedly. "The very same."

"But I still don't understand," Clow continued, scratching his head, "What exactly does that have to do with Yue?"

The little lion buried his face in his paws. "Oh my _god_, Clow!" he shouted from beneath them in clear frustration, "do you just sit up in your room daydreaming all afternoon or what? He's pillaging, of course!"

"He's… what now?" the magician bumbled back.

Cerberus smacked himself in the face again and mumbled something under his breath in a language that Clow couldn't understand. "All right," he whispered, taking a slow, steadying breath, "Yue is a big boy now, Clow. He's several inches taller than he was last year and a hell of a lot… bulkier."

Clow continued to stare at him blankly. Agitation clearly rising, Cerberus continued:

"He's been bitching up a storm these past several weeks about how none of his clothes fit any more! Surely you've heard him? For crying out loud, half of _Lightwater_ probably heard him crying about it!"

"So," Clow prompted gently, hoping the creature would just hurry up and make his final point.

"_So,_" the lion replied forcefully, "your father was apparently a bit shorter and ganglier than you are, and he was alive up until about fifteen or twenty years ago! According to Yue, fashion's changed since then, but it hasn't changed _that _much. He's going through all the old tosser's stuff to see if there's anything he can use himself.

"And he's being a right little cunt about it too, if you ask me." Cerberus finished, flipping his book back open.

Clow stood there for a moment longer, letting all the data process. "All right," he said slowly after a minute or so had gone by, "I suppose I'll go and find him then…"

"Down the hall, first right and then the first set of fancy doors on your left," Cerberus rattled off automatically, pointing a claw in all the appropriate directions without even looking up from his book.

Clow blinked once more. Clearly more had changed here at the manor than he had thought… "All right, then, he said again, walking past the little beast in the direction he had indicated. "Oh, and Cerberus," he added over his shoulder with a laugh, "you really should clean up your language."

Cerberus snorted over his book. "Yeah, yeah," he sniggered back, "And what 'ya gonna do, flog me?"

Clow chuckled in reply. "Sic your brother on you," he answered slyly. Then, enjoying the unconcealable laugh echoing up the corridor behind him, he made his way onward toward Xavier's chambers.

…

Clow found his father's old bedchambers exactly how Cerberus had described them: they were off toward the Western side of the house—the same side Clow himself slept on—and were tucked away in their own small hallway. Several grand, polished doors rose immediately to his left, just as his son had said. From the cracks in their finish and the amount of dust which had gathered in the crevices carvings, it was obvious that they had not been in regular use for some time. Nevertheless, he could not deny that the whole thing had a certain air of grandeur to it, even after standing here abandoned all these years. There could be no doubt that the sole heir to the great Reed family had once resided here. Now the wizard faced a new problem, however:

While he had found the correct suite, it was just that—a suite. Not one door, but _four_ doors to _four_ separate rooms spread down the hallway towards a west-facing window. There could be no doubt that these were the bedchambers Cerberus had told him about, but as for which one of them he might find his younger son in… the man was rather stumped. What a ridiculous situation he had gotten himself into, the wizard scoffed at himself. Here he had spent all morning trying to find the courage to come down here—to find Yue—and now he was being blocked not by his own fear, but _doors_ of all things! Clow sighed. Perhaps Cerberus was right. Truly, he didn't get out of his room very often. He wasn't entirely certain why… After all, he owned this huge house—surely there was no shortage of space for him to wander through if he so pleased. In his early days here, he and Cerberus had done quite a lot of exploring around the Manor. Why _had_ those adventures stopped? Now here he was, lost in his own house—a house, he might add, which his two boys had clearly learned far better than their father!

Utterly frustrated with himself, Clow plopped down onto the dusty floor and leaned back against the wall, massaging his temples. This was certainly turning out to be quite a day and he hadn't even yet gotten around to the little proposition he had planned if he could ever _find_ his missing blond beauty. Closing his eyes, the sorcerer tried to force his jargogled mind to clear. If he could just relax—just gain control of himself for a _minute_ even—there might still be one option open to him. If he could just calm down… he would understand.

He breathed out slowly and forcefully, allowing his magical senses to overtake him. He was still not very good at this yet (though he hated to admit it, he was not nearly as skilled as the very boy he was _seeking_), but Clow Reed was determined. Focusing with all his might, he tried to scan the area for Yue's pulsing, violet aura. For a moment, nothing happened. He could almost hear the tick of the entryway clock echoing inside his mind. Damn it, the sorcerer cursed himself, why was he so unskilled at the moment? He _should _have the power! Then, just as he was thinking of giving up, a familiar wave of coolness washed over him. Clow shivered, as if he could feel the frost with his own flesh. Rising slowly to his feet—eyes still softly closed—he followed the presence. He walked as if in a dreamscape, allowing only his powers to guide him. The walk could only have taken a few seconds in the physical world, but inside Clow's psyche, it felt like an eternity was rushing by—an eternity filled with misty, violet clouds, sweet blossoming flowers, and chilly spring rain. Vaguely, he was aware of his feet hitting the bottom rim of a hard wooden door. This was the right one, the magician thought inside himself, he _knew _it. Opening his eyes, he turned the knob and stepped silently into the room beyond.

A burst of sunlight greeted his gaze. If Xavier and Clow were father and son, it was clear that their personal tastes were quite different. While Clow's room was dark, bold, and masculine, his predecessors was light and airy. Wide, paned windows flanked the room all along its southern and western walls, and the stunned sorcerer realized that he must be in the very last room of the hall. The curtains which hung over them were still upon their racks, but they were not heavy velvet as was the case in the upstairs west wing; instead, they were made of a pale, translucent material like fine silk. A grand bed lay amongst the glow on the right hand side of the chamber. Like Clow's, it was intricately carved and made out of a dark, polished wood, but the similarities ended there. The sheets upon the bed were still pristine and crisp—as if someone might just have made them… although, this sorcerer knew well that its occupant had died some twenty years prior. The bottommost of these were made out of a similar silky material, like the curtains, and the thick blankets that lay upon them were a fair steely blue. They only added to the open feeling of the room. But there was something else that was beginning to dawn upon Clow. Something a hair disquieting. He had thought when he first walked in that the trappings and beddings had appeared to by silk-like, but with proper inspection, it was beginning to dawn upon him that this is _precisely_ what all the linens of the space were: fine, oriental silk. And that was certainly not the only thing which felt distinctly oriental about this place. All around the room, the walls were not left a bare stone, but covered in a faint blue-and-white wallpaper of sorts, which reminded Clow of fine patterned porcelain. As he drew nearer, he could just make out the long, robed bodies and sleek, straight hair of a cast of far-Eastern characters and exotic scenes. Many of the decorative pictures—most of them in dark, wooden frames—did not appear to be of Western origin either; he could see at least two or three brush paintings clearly amongst them. The rest of the furniture looked English enough—stained and carved similarly to the bed—but what he could see even of this was limited by an obviously Eastern accessory: bisecting the room neatly in two were a series of sturdy, bent silk-and-bamboo screens. And beneath his feet was what felt very much like an old rice mat.

Blinking stupidly around at the space, Clow tried to take in all of this overwhelming information. It seemed that, while Xavier Reed may have returned to England, much of his mind—right up to the day of his death—had still been on China. For a moment, he was overcome with the strangest sense of loss. He couldn't understand where it had come from. After all, he had never known his father—he should have no reason to be saddened by the man's passing. He'd died decades ago, besides! But somehow, staring out at the carefully-arranged array of foreign treasures, the wizard couldn't help but feel that maybe he had been unjustly robbed of something. His mother had always said that she and Xavier had been in love, and that he had not wanted to leave… but never before had he seen the proof of this claim. …The claim that the Li family had driven his father unwillingly out of Asia… Now that he saw this place, however, it seemed that Xavier Reed had held something dear in China right up until his lonely, untimely demise.

To die alone, and longing for love lost…

The sound of soft music broke Clow out of his reverie.

Looking more closely around the room now, and not just at its décor, he quickly realized that not all parts of the space were as untouched and preserved as Xavier's silent shrine. Against the far wall (behind the screens), the wardrobe doors had been opened, and neat little piles of clothing lined the floor. The door to the next room of the suite was opened on the left-side wall, as if someone was regularly meandering back and forth between the two spaces. From somewhere just within the walls of the second room, a light, more lyrical baritone voice was lightly humming to himself as he busied about. As he approached the doorway, Clow could faintly pick up on the words:

"…_Fye, then! Why sit we musing, youth's sweet delights refusing?…"_

Stepping into the threshold, he knocked quietly against the wooden frame.

The humming stopped and a quiet chuckle resounded from the chamber within. "Hello, Clow," a young man's voice cooed from within—completely unperturbed…almost as if he had been expecting the company all this time. As easily as he had spoken, Clow sensed no fear in stepping into the room fully and allowing his eyes to fall upon the pale beauty before him. If he was surprised at the boy's tone, however, he was about to be floored.

Sunlight gleamed in through tall windows here too, and their glowing light glistened brilliantly off the pale, silvery hair of the creature that stood amongst its rays. Clow's heart nearly stopped dead in his chest—and then seemed to leap into action again, twice as hard and as fast as he would have believed possible. Yue Reed was standing in the middle of the floor, sunbeams streaming all around him…

He was also in a most unexpected state of undress.

As far as Clow could tell, Yue was wearing only two articles of clothing, and neither of those in a terribly composed fashion. A pair of earth-tone stockings were drawn up his thighs and hooked precariously into place against the vast tension stretching below them. He had a pair of tight, brown breeches only half on: the dark, caramel-colored fabric was pulled taught over his left leg, but the young man had clearly frozen in the process of drawing up his right, leaving his pale skin exposed just below his hips. Firm, rounded flesh peeked out at the older sorcerer. They were unfastened as of yet, leaving the front part of the boy's body tantalizingly bare. From the waist up, he was completely naked, fair complexion sparkling in the midday sun. His back was facing Clow, thankfully, or the man might have died on sight! But that didn't stop the knowledge of what lay just around the bend from toying with his emotions—tearing at something inside of him that the magician was not altogether comfortable with unleashing. Yue cast him a small smile over his shoulder, as if completely unaware of his own nudity. If Clow hadn't known better, he would have called it _seductive_!

"Did you want something?" he whispered demurely while his master stayed rooted to spot, gawking, completely unable to speak. The boy chuckled lightly to himself again, as if amused in some way by his elder. After a moment more of torment, slowly, he reached down and finished pulling his breeches the rest of the way on. Still unable to think properly, Clow flinched slightly as the buckles clicked into place. Then, with a flourish of his long, glimmering hair, the child whirled around to face his companion.

"Clow?" he jibed playfully as the man still continued to stare. If his brain was working sluggishly before, it was now skidding to a complete halt. He had been talking about changes happening here in Reed Manor, but this was certainly not the kind he had been thinking of. Clearly spring flowers were not the only things blooming this season…

As Yue turned to face him, it was no longer the boyish figure of a growing child which met Clow's gaze. Yue Reed was still a very slight young man—he was at least six or eight inches shorter than his father, and far smaller of frame. That is to say, where Clow was wide and heavy-set, Yue's build was much more athletic and agile. But it was not the boy's size which was catching his master's attention this particular moment. Where soft, childish flesh had been before, the mage's upper body was suddenly on its way to becoming the chiseled figure of a young warrior. His shoulders were nearly broad as Clow's now, despite his shorter stature; they were graced by the support of an enormous expanse of sinewy flesh, which descended from his neck down towards where his wings would have been. Beneath them, arms that had previously been thin and straight were now arched and sloping with new definition upon their slender shape. Across his breast, a childish uniformity had been replaced by sleek, mounting pectorals and their supporting structures; they traipsed all the way around his sides, some inferior portions disappearing out of site as they extended towards his back. They were flanked bilaterally by a series of accessory flight muscles, which wrapped around from the rear and attached thickly to the sides of his ribcage. Across the lower portion of his torso, the hills and valleys of a sophisticated abdominal system were beginning to emerge, and cast new shadows on what had once been a nearly-blank canvass. Judging by the lines and rises which licked his flanks, his tiny figure was now held in place by a tight oblique musculature which held his once-thin form even more compact than Clow had remembered. The elder magician could do nothing more but stare at all of this. Somehow, between the winter and the spring, his little child had been carried away from him, and this blossoming changeling left in his place. Where he had remembered nothing more than a slight, boyish body, young Yue Reed now stood before him with all the appearance of a toned, growing, _masculine_ appearance. How on Earth could he not have noticed…?

"Clow?" the boy cooed again, creeping up on the man and mockingly waving a hand in front of his face, "Hello? Are you in there?"

Clow Reed blinked, and gazed down at the boy who was suddenly standing very, _very_ near to him.

"I—" he stuttered, still in a complete state of mental and emotional confusion, "I, er…I was—was looking for you…" he managed to stammer out rather pathetically. Yue just smiled, apparently amused at his master's predicament.

"Oh?" he whispered, running a long, thin finger along the wizard's back as he wandered around to his other side. Clow shivered beneath his touch. Yue smirked. "And why would that be?" he hissed into his elder's ear, most quietly yet. The older man could feel the lick of his warm breath trailing down his neck, and almost feared that his knees might give way. He had to change the subject! He had to get this conversation back on track _now_ before he completely lost control of himself!

"That… that was an interesting little tune you were humming," he blurted out as authoritatively as he could muster (which was not terribly much).

Yue laughed again, sending another lightning bolt down Clow's spine. "What's the matter?" he pressed coyly, completing his circle around his prey so that he now faced the wizard directly, their noses inches apart. "Don't you want to play barley-break with me?"

"Yue!" Clow exclaimed, surprising even himself. Judging by the sudden surge of heat that had just shot up into his face, he imagined that he had just turned a rather impressive shade of vermillion.

The boy smirked, and chuckled more genuinely, taking a step back from his flustered father. "I'm just kidding," he sniggered, "wanted to see just what kind of a rise I could get out of you."

"Do-do you even realize what you're saying?" Clow stammered in reply, entire body still in a kind of shock over this whole predicament. His son had just made a blatant joke about—! Well, about—!

"I read," Yue responded with a sly smile, giving his hair a smart sort of toss over his shoulder.

After a moment of blank staring and heavy breathing, the magician heard himself mutter back something about "What on Earth are you reading?"

Whatever he had said precisely, Yue seemed to find it even further amusing, for he threw a teasing look at his companion and replied: "Well, Shakespeare for one thing. Perhaps a bit of Chaucer on the side…"

Clow could only make a faint whimpering noise in response. "I think I need a stiff tonic…" he muttered more to himself than anyone else. Giving up on his trembling knees, he sunk weakly into an old wooden chair behind him. "And will you please put a shirt on?" he pleaded faintly in Yue's direction.

At first, the boy nodded, seeming to have decided that he'd had his fun, and had started flitting away to comply. After a moment, however, he paused. For a second, a devious look flickered across his eyes, and he took one last, devilish glance at Clow. "Yes, Master," he purred with purposeful sensuality.

"YUE!" Clow shouted, flailing his arms so hard in protest that he nearly fell out of his chair.

"Sorry," the boy giggled genuinely, "I'll stop. You're just so easy today; I couldn't resist."

Clow sighed, "I know," he whined, "it's been an interesting morning. But please never call me that again."

Yue paused half-way through pulling an old smock-like shirt over his shoulders. "Yes, Master?" he offered with an impish smile.

Clow dropped his head into his hands and whimpered faintly into his palms. Oh, this was turning out to be far more difficult than he had prepared for. Perhaps it would be best to just cut his losses now and write this whole deal off as a bad job? But just as he was thinking quite seriously about finding a dark corner somewhere and curling up in his own self-pity, the sorcerer felt something soft and cool brush his skin. Glancing between his fingers, his eyes met with the clear, pale violet of his younger son's.

"I _am_ sorry," Yue whispered, tone soft and sincere, "I'll stop now, I swear."

Clow smiled slightly and with great effort, forced himself upright again. Exhaling slowly and forcefully to calm his nerves, he turned to Yue, who was now at least fully covered and curled at his feet. He sighed once more: how was he supposed to go about this? He had finally gathered up the courage to come down here and take a stand—to _do _something about this affection he had for the boy instead of sitting alone in his room and trying to deny its existence. And now… now he was completely perturbed again. He hadn't had any idea what to do with himself. What could he do? What could he say? Yue had apparently taken several key steps towards mature, adult life, and Clow hadn't the foggiest! It seemed that already this boy was spiraling towards his own happy future with or without his father. He had grown, he had changed, he had become so confident while Clow had been locked away in his bedroom contemplating his navel. Perhaps this was a sign: perhaps this was the universe telling him what he already feared—what Cerberus had told him, what his visions had all but showed him! This girl, this _Sakura_! This child yet unborn: he had seen her with Cerberus and with Yue… but not with himself. Was this the sign he had been waiting for, to tell him that _this_ was not his destiny?

"Clow," a soft voice whispered from what felt like many miles away, "Clow, come back to me." Numbly, he felt ice cold fingers lace in with his own, and a gentle grip clasping at his hand. "Please, come back to me," the voice in his ear cooed. It was full with concern, and no matter what his internal conflicts, the sorcerer could not abandon someone so concerned for him—not even into the recesses of his own mind. He blinked, suddenly feeling much more sober again—as if someone had just doused him in cold water. His eyes meandered down the pale hand that was now intertwined in his; he followed it all the way up to the shoulder until, at last, he was gazing into the worried eyes of a young Yue Reed. He smiled, and gave the boy's hand a reassuring squeeze. With all the appearance of relief, the mage returned the gesture. "So," he said quietly after a moment's pause, "Why _were_ you looking for me?"

…

Clow Reed stood by the banister of the grand staircase, leaning on one of the rail posts. He was no longer dressed in his tattered black house cloak, but instead had changed into an attractive grey suit which he would normally have worn down to the village. His legs were properly adorned in red stockings and steel-colored breeches. He had donned a matching grey overcoat, which reached almost down to the top of his stockings—as was the current fashion of the day—but he had not buttoned it all the way such that his light brown vest peeked out in places. He had tied the neck with a simple red scarf and pulled his sleek black hair back into much neater ponytail than he would normally have bothered with. Altogether, he looked remarkably smart. The expression on his face was rather composed and almost youthful, considering the man's usual temperament (to say nothing of his age). He seemed to be waiting for something. He watched the changing light outside the distant northern windows as he leaned against the stair rail. The sun was now what he would call rather low in the sky, but it was still a good long while before sunset. He wasn't the least worried: there was still plenty of time.

There was a small noise from somewhere up above him—like the soft squeaking of a mouse. Glancing skyward, Clow smiled as his eyes fell on upon the pale, beautiful creature now descending the stairs to meet him. The young man reached their base in what seemed like no time at all. He came to a halt beside his father, and smiled a bit bashfully. "Well," he muttered uncertainly, "what do you think?" He opened his arms and prepared himself for the man's scrutiny.

Clow's first reaction was to say the boy looked positively lovely, of course, but something held him back. Yue Reed was standing before him in a slightly odd, but nonetheless attractive combination of clothing; it could have come from nowhere else, he thought, than from rummaging through the old wardrobes of someone as long-lived as Clow's own father. He was wearing the same fair, earth-tone stockings and tight, maple-colored breeches that he had been wearing earlier. He had drawn his hair back in high plait, which he had woven so tightly and so horizontally that it remarkable only fell to the mage's ankles; it was tied at the base and the top with a pair of golden ribbons. Over his smock, he had attached rather large sleeves of a light, pure white fabric, which fanned out, at his wrists. Over top of it, he had apparently found a rather nicely-fitting jacket amongst Xavier's old stash. It was not the most cutting-age of 1680s fashion, but it was not particularly out of style either. It was not quite as long as more modern jackets, but nevertheless reached down to the boy's thighs. It was sleeveless for summer wear, allowing the billowing white sleeves to pour out of it unhindered, and shut cleanly with a string of gold buttons down the front. At the collar, he had tied it off with a coordinating golden sash. It was the color, Clow supposed, which was leaving him slightly perturbed.

"Pink?" he asked a hair timidly as he surveyed the light-colored fabric. It was clearly a bit faded with time, but it was quite apparent that the garment was and always had been a shade of rosy pink.

"Is there something wrong with pink?" Yue asked, clearly surprised at his partner's curious reaction. "It _is_ considered a fairly masculine color, after all."

Clow bit his lip. "No," he replied, attempting to shake himself back into his previous state of composure, "No, not at all. It's just a bit surprising."

Yue let out a sigh of relief, clearly glad that he was not being scorned for whatever reason. "Yes, I thought as much too, but it was the best fit among the summer wardrobe."

Clow nodded hurriedly, not wanting Yue to linger on the subject any longer. "Well then," he exclaimed, offering the mage his arm, "Shall we?"

Hesitating only a moment longer, the young man seemed to decide that whatever had caused Clow's strange initial reaction, it had little to do with him, and arm in arm the two made their way out the entrance hall and down the front steps of the manor. But even as they crossed the long, sloping lawn and headed down the woodland trail which led toward Lightwater, the older man was lost in thought. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps he was just imagining it. Perhaps he was even looking for excuses to run back to his room and hide when there were none. Perhaps it was all in his head, but Clow Reed almost could have sworn, when he had caught sight of Yue's pink attire, that it was the second sign of the day that he should not be doing this. Though he hadn't shared his dreams with Yue for a long time, they had persisted through the months. Their frequency was much less now than it had been the previous summer or even in the wintertime, but they were nonetheless still there.

And this bothered Clow.

Why, he couldn't help but think to himself, was he still lingering on this girl? Why in the world was he so obsessed with her? Was he truly so afraid of commitment that he was making up phantoms—threats that were not really there? True, he had seen this little foreign girl in his dreams and recognized that she had some sort of strange association with Cerberus and Yue. He almost wished he could have seen whatever it was Yue experienced while he was unconscious last month. When the boy had awoken, he had given his master the girl's name: Sakura. But how had he come by that information? Clow had been doing some reading on the subject and turned up some rather distressing figures. The first of these was the name itself: as it turned out, 'Sakura' was not only a real name, but it hailed from exactly the same part of the world that he and Cerberus had been investigating for cherry blossoms. In fact, eerily enough, the name—the word—_meant_ 'cherry blossom' in the exotic nation of the Japanese islands. It was either the greatest coincidence of the century or, somehow, Yue had really seen or experienced something in that minute he was unconscious which was honestly prophetic. The second thing that was distressing him was that the previous conclusion was apparently quite possible. According to some of the reading he had been doing in the Reed family's vast library, there were several documented cases of powerful magicians who did _not _possess the power to see visions temporarily gaining this ability under dire circumstances. Most of these accounts had been rather disturbing, Clow had to admit. Most of them, for example, had been of sorcerers who had nearly _died_ and had managed to recover at the last minute. But other accounts had described injuries of a lesser nature which included head trauma or a very high fever. These factors in mind, and Clow had almost no doubt in his mind that Yue had seen something profound, though he knew not what: even over a month later, the boy's only memory of the day he was injured was of that morning before he had even gone outside to train. Whatever he had witnessed, it had all been lost except for that name.

Sakura… whenever he saw the color pink now, it made him think of her. Who was she? When would she exist? Why did she seem so closely related to Cerberus and Yue? At one point, Clow had even gone so far as to speculate she might be his own daughter. He quickly dismissed this theory, however. In order for him to have a daughter, it would still mean that Clow and Yue were not destined to be together, since a wife would be necessary to conceive a child. It was a very complicated situation to say the least. Still, he could not believe that it was mere coincidence that Yue should chose to wear pink—_her_ color—on this day.

On this day that Clow had planned for the two of them alone.

"We're not actually going all the way down to the village, are we?" Yue's gentle tones asked from his side, shattering the man's silent contemplation.

Clow smiled warmly, grateful for the distraction. "Not _quite_," he replied slyly.

The mage cocked an eyebrow and gave his companion the most curious of looks. Clow chuckled, and without a word, he led on. After a time, the pair exited the forest at the base of the hill, but as Clow had said, they did not continue onward toward Lightwater. Instead, they took a sharp right and followed another path up into some of the smaller, sloping hills that surrounded the valley.

"Clow, where _are_ we going?" Yue laughed nervously beside him.

Once again, the elder man merely grinned to himself. "You'll see," he whispered, "you'll see."

…

The sun was only a little lower in the sky when the pair at last finished their climb up through the hills. Clow, through great strength of will, and managed to reach the top first. Panting slightly, he took a moment to catch his breath as he surveyed the wide, open space before him. He smiled. Yes, the wizard thought to himself, this was definitely worth it.

Yue followed behind him a few moments later. Surprisingly, he seemed to be panting more out of exasperation than from physical exertion. "Clow," he called as he drew up to the man, "where on Earth are…oh my."

The boy's question died in his throat as his eyes flickered onto the glorious spring scene which coated the hilltops all around them. In every direction—from the north to the south, and from the east to the west—as far as the eye could see, there was not grass, nor trees, but instead a giant grove of purple wildflowers.

"Wha—what is this?" the boy stammered in astonishment, eyes sparkling like the cool waters of the river below.

Clow's grin widened even farther seeing his son's face light up so easily, and he laughed out loud for the joy of it. "This," he responded merrily, "is the lavender fields of Lightwater."

Tossing one last impish glance toward his companion, Yue Reed released the hand he had been holding and immediately dashed to the flowers' edge. With a resounding laugh, Clow bumbled down the hill after him, wind streaking past his face. The young mage looked almost like a faerie, he couldn't help but think as he watched the boy kneel down amongst the blooms. There was a glistening fire in his eye all of a sudden, the likes of which Clow had not seen in a long time. The wizard was half expecting him to sprout little dragonfly wings in place of his long feathered ones, and take off into the skies… leaving him for some distant Gaelic sanctuary forever…

"They're beautiful," Yue whispered up to him, breaking whatever strange fantasy had momentarily claimed his partner. He reached out with a long-fingered hand and delicately stroked the gentle blossoms, "they're truly beautiful, Clow."

Clow swallowed hard, then said as softly as he could: "They'd be even more beautiful with you lying amongst them."

Yue whipped his gaze around immediately, and fixed his piercing violet eyes upon his elder. Amongst the sea of lavender, it was amazing how much more brilliantly purple they appeared. A playful sort of smile erupted on the child's lips. "Is that so?" he cooed. Rising slowly to his feet, he took a few steps closer to Clow until they were nearly nose to nose again. Then, he whispered in the most enticing of tones: "Well then, you know what you'll have to do, don't you?"

Clow raised an eyebrow. Yue licked his lips, a clearly devious plot sparkling in his pale eyes. Leaning in towards the man, he muttered into his ear: "You'll have to catch me."

Utterly taken aback, the wizard merely stood there gaping for a moment. As fast as the wind, Yue immediately twirled away from him, standing just within the rim of the flowers. Then, leaping out into the fields, he cried over his shoulder "And we're near to the village, so no magic!"

For a split second longer, Clow remained in place, blinking stupidly. Then, seeing his quarry disappearing into the distance, he gave a stupendous barking laugh and took off into the flowers after him.

They ran for a long time—how long, Clow could not quite tell, but he knew he was in absolute bliss all the while. They dashed over mound and valley, leapt between blossom and stem. Despite the speed at which the pair of them were frolicking, Clow Reed just could never seem to catch up to his fiery little sprite. Once or twice he thought he almost had the boy, but the instant he could make one final leap to corner him, Yue had somehow slipped gracefully away again, laughing at his master all the while. It was amazing really, the speed and nimbleness with which that child could leap between the sweet purple flowers. And no matter how fast he danced away, Clow couldn't help but notice, not once did he seem to damage the blossoms at his feet. His companion, meanwhile, was doing all that he could not to do serious damage to more than one at a time as he stumbled through the field in hunt of his lovely prey. At last, after what felt like a glorious eternity, the sprite made a fatal error. And with one last bounding leap, Clow caught him around the ankles, and pulled the pair of them, laughing, into the soft blooms below.

They lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, bodies completely intertwined with one another. Clow still lay on top of the boy from where he had tackled him, but the young man seemed not to mind. Relishing in this beautiful position as well as his own exhaustion, he let his head rest against Yue's chest and listened to his thundering heartbeat slow to a steady pulse once more. He felt the mage respond beneath him, arching his back slightly and curling in closer to his partner. Clow sighed contentedly. Yes, no matter how difficult the day had started out, he was glad they had come out here. Nothing could be better than this.

"You're beautiful, you know," he muttered with relish in the child's direction. His partner didn't respond, but Clow could feel the blond suddenly breathing much deeper beneath his touch. The sorcerer smiled. That was answer enough… He closed his eyes and curled himself more comfortably around the young warlock's body. Contentedly, he rested his head back down upon the boy's breast, and continued to listen to the sounds of his softly beating heart. Hawkins had been right all those years ago, he thought happily to himself; Yue was very human…

"It belongs to you, you know," a tiny, breathless-sounding voice whispered from somewhere at his head, "my heart."

Clow felt something deep inside him squirm with pleasure at the boy's words. It was an agonizing pleasure—eating him from the inside, snaking up him from places he often would rather ignore. The wizard felt a tiny moan escape his lips at the wonderful ache of it all. "Just as this does," the voice whispered again, a little stronger this time. And Clow felt a gentle hand slide its way into his breast pocket, and slide a thick piece of paper between their intertwined fingers. He felt the pulse of Shield's energy wash over him and knew exactly what his son meant. Softly, he whimpered again for the joy of it all. Yes, this was easily the best day of his life. The wizard lay there a second more, letting the wave happiness fill him. Then he pressed his arms into the dirt and raised himself up on them until he was leaning over the young man, eye to eye.

"You know I love you," he murmured silently, "right?"

Yue sighed with contentment, shifting beneath him like a snake. "Yes," the boy breathed in reply.

Clow smiled weakly, long trails of tears beginning to well up in his eyes. "Yue, I'm frightened," he stammered, voice cracking with overwhelming emotion. Yue opened his eyes, and looked up at the pitiful man who was still lying half atop him. "Everything's changing soon," he whispered tearfully, "and I don't know what's happening anymore!

"I don't want to lose you…"

"You won't," Yue muttered calmly back up at him. He reached up a hand and stroked the man's strained, tear-streaked face. "You won't lose me," he whispered, pronouncing every word as if they were delicate glass, "I promise. I will be waiting for you when summer ends, Clow. You will do what you need to do… and I will still be here, waiting for you.

"Always."

The last word resounded throughout the elder sorcerer's mind. Weakly, he collapsed back against Yue's chest, and curled himself tightly to his warm flesh. "When you say that," he murmured in reply, "I almost believe you." Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out an old, tattered tarot card. Wordlessly, with his other hand, he released his staff.

"Sealing a card?" Yue asked coolly as he eyed his companion lying the object amidst the lavender blooms.

"Yes," Clow whispered. And he eased off the boy for a moment, whirled his staff around, and touched it to strip of paper. "Seal," he muttered commandingly. The card obeyed, and with a soft, pink glow, it reformed itself. Scooping it in hand, Clow rolled himself back up against Yue's side, resting his head once more upon the mage's chest. He held its face aloft so the both of them could see it. "The Flower," he read reverently, "so that I will never forget this time…in the lavender fields."

Yue smiled softly, and drew in closer to his embrace. Behind them, the sun had at last begun to set, but neither sorcerer seemed to have noticed it. They lay there in each other's arms until the gibbous moon had risen high in the sky—just lying, nothing more.

And yet, neither one could remember feeling more at peace with the world.

Or with themselves.

* * *

_AN: So that was chapter seventeen—a very fluffy chapter in my opinion. With the end of the first arc (and subsequently, the start of the radically different second) arc coming up so soon, I thought that Clow and Yue really needed a chapter to settle some of this unresolved romantic tension they've been wrestling with these two long years. Poor Cerberus, he didn't really get much more than a couple of cameo appearances this time. :(Oh well, I think we'll see quite a lot of him next chapter *wink wink*._

_There were some interesting allusions this time which I want to make sure I explain, in case anyone is a little lost. My inspiration for this chapter was an old English folk tune entitled 'Now is the Month of Maying'. It's one of the better-known songs of its kind from the Elizabethan period (the period just before Rooster, which is mainly set in the Baroque period). On the surface level, it seems to be about happy men and women dancing outside in the lovely spring weather. The lines Yue was singing came from the third verse, which reads _

"_Fie then! why sit we musing,_

_Youth's sweet delight refusing? Fa la._

_Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,_

_Shall we play at barley-break? Fa la."_

_Barley-break at the end (which Yue also made a play on) is a very old entendre. A modernization of Yue's comment about playing it with Clow might go something like "What's the matter? You don't want to roll in the hay with me?" which is why Clow reacted so violently. When Clow asks Yue what he's been reading that has given him such a (for lack of a better term) sexual awakening, Yue jokes about Shakespeare and Chaucer. Shakespeare, for those who don't know, would have been popular about a century before Yue's time, and would be quite famous by 1683. He was known for crude humor and filling his plays with entendre. Chaucer was an earlier writer of the 1300s, whose epic, __The Canterbury Tales__ was (and is still) considered to be downright dirty. Clow's comment about 'if he could calm down he would understand' is a translation of 'Ochizukeba chanto wakaru hazu da', Syaoran's advice to Sakura in vol 4 of the CCS canon when Sakura was freaking out about Erase making her friends disappear (including Tomoyo). Yue calls pink a masculine color because, at the time it was considered tough and manly because it was light red. pastel blue was more traditional for girls because of its association with the Virgin Mary. Those versed in modern emergency medicine should also get a kick out of Yue's concussion—Clow even knew spinal protection, recovery position, __**and**__ trendelenburg! He's a man ahead of his time. ;) Yeah, I did give him a bit of a dressed-up concussion—in real life, he probably would have been repeating questions a lot and acting more disoriented, but that just doesn't make for good storytelling. A keen medical eye might spot a few more symptoms, however, which are not explicitly mentioned. Those with knowledge of biology might also get a kick out of 15-year-old Yue suddenly beginning to blossom into a flirty little teenager. Yes, folks, Yue doesn't hit puberty, Yue beats puberty to a pulp and steals its lunch money ;)_

_Please review!_


	18. Bonus Ch1: Night Moves

_****AN: OK, so I had a very busy semester this past spring! Wow, I couldn't believe how little time I had to write... o_O At any rate, I've been working on chapter 18, and the problem is that I know I'm only about half way done with that chapter (if I want it to end the way I had intended), but I was already at 14,000 words. So, I decided rather than post a super-long chapter, or cut it in a different place (and thus lose the *cough* cliff-hanger ending), I would post this bit as a stand alone. :3 This was originally going to be the lead-in scene to chapter 18, but like my lead-in scenes sometimes are, it's only somewhat related to the major chapter content. It really has a lot of other interesting content that is simply separate from the chapter, so this seemed the best route. I'm planning on doing this from time to time anyway: posting little mini-chapters which aren't quite as necessarily for the overall plot of the story, but that I find so fun or so interesting that I just can't leave them out either. :D So consider this 1) an apology for not getting much writing done this semester, and a thank you for everyone who keeps reading; 2) a little teaser for the longer chapter to come (which picks up right from here and does have a few continuity nods to this mini-chapter). Thanks again everyone for sticking by me, and please read and review!_

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

_**Part Four: Card Games**_

**Bonus Chapter 1, Night Moves**

It was quiet—desperately quiet.

A cold wind was blowing on this particular summer evening in Surrey, England. It thundered across the wide, open plain that was Reed Manor grounds, ripping leaves off trees as it went. Uprooting blades of grass. Creatures of the wood and birds of the sky were all darting back into their burrows and nests as the icy breeze licked the countryside. All was silent. All was still. Through the abyss, the gales hummed a solemn tune, like the whispered song of a lost soul. One could almost imagine it was speaking—speaking words of warning to what life remained awake and watchful.

Warning that autumn was soon approaching… or of something else entirely.

The evening was rather dark as well as quiet. The moon was but a mere crescent in the sky, and all the land was cast into a murky gloom. The winds were positively roaring. In the distance, the low rumble of thunder reverberated around the valley and her hilltops. Storm clouds were gathering to the north of the village, visible only by void into which they sucked the star-studded sky.

Somewhere out in the darkness, a young boy shivered as the breeze washed over him. Ducking away from the cold, he drew his limbs in closer to his core and waited for the icy gust to pass. It shouldn't have been cold out here. It was certainly not the season for this sort of weather. Both hair and feathers stood on end from the chill.

As it turned out, there _was_ one living thing still gracing the lawn of Reed Manor this particular night. While the rabbits and squirrels were each diving for cover, a quiet figure knelt atop the highest tier of the house. His silhouette shone like a dark, elegant shadow against the rising crescent behind him. He watched the winds as they danced across the lawn—surveying them with undue scrutiny. But this night, he was not observing the gales reverently, or even anxiously. He was watching them with the utmost sense of confusion and distrust. He was glaring at them through the nightfall. He couldn't be seen, but his gaze could be felt all the same: piercing deep into the heart of darkness. He was no fool. Something wasn't right here.

There was more than the change of seasons stirring now in the skies over Lightwater.

Wide, dark wings parted in a single, graceful flap, and the shadowy figure leapt easily off the rooftop. He swooped down like a bat and beat his way smoothly back up into the air currents. The way he moved, one might have believed it was effortless. The frigid winds continued to kick up from the north, and the tiny floating shape was tossed around in the thrall like a little ship adrift at sea. But while he bounced and fell like a cork in water, he stayed determinedly airborne.

From somewhere on the ground below, a pair of eyes was watching in earnest as the shadow of wings beat across the thin face of the moon. The boy was well aware of his little spectator, but he couldn't hardly bother himself with them at the moment. He had to focus. Closing his eyes, he felt the icy winds roar at him once more. The currents shot through each of his feathers as if they were an onslaught of arrows: licking his skin as they soared to their distant targets. The rush of air stung at his face until his skin felt raw. The cold tore at his throat like an ever-tightening noose.

But Yue Reed paid this no mind.

He breathed in. And out.

Wings beat softly in time.

The wind thundered through his plumage in all sorts of new directions, but the young mage was not phased. Almost on reflex, he twisted each of his individual feathers in turn, lifting himself into the coiling path of the gales. Tiny muscles contracted and relaxed. He twirled through the air like a weightless dancer, long silvery hair billowing all around him.

But graceful and meticulous as his movements were, this lunar sorcerer was already feeling the cold hand of defeat slipping into him like the night air. Though spinning and gliding through every difficult and spiraling squall, he was gaining little altitude. The winds could not knock him down anymore, but nor would they permit him to rise—to truly fly among them. Yue sighed—a sigh which was immediately ripped away by the thundering currents around him. He could stay and fight all night if he wanted, but he had the distinct feeling that it would be all for naught. Something was indeed amiss in Lightwater. Something was coming—coming like the storm clouds that were gathering on the horizon. And like the storm, it seemed that he was going to be allowed only so much preparation before it struck.

As he was thinking to himself, another particularly powerful burst of wind flew up in his face, and Yue had to contort around at the last minute to save himself from crashing; wings beat in fast succession, tearing at already tender muscles. Regaining control again, the warlock opened his eyes. Yes, he could keep on fighting, but this deck was clearly stacked against him. Already, the chill of the evening had left his throat raw and constricted; with each beat of his wings, he felt himself strain harder and harder to catch breath. He was sore, he was tired, and whether he liked it or not, his body would not allow him to hold out forever. The winds, meanwhile, had no such handicap. Somehow, the mage seriously doubted they would resist the opportunity to drive him into the earth, if given the chance.

Sighing once more, Yue hooked his wings up above him, and dove down into lower, gentler breezes. Swooping down like a bird of prey, he wrestled with his own momentum until he was mere feet off the ground. He cursed to himself as the plains below drew closer. He was still going far too fast for this altitude, and the airstreams that held him were both far too weak and far too unpredictable. Clearly, there was only one way this could end…

As if his thoughts had summoned it, the breeze beneath the mage suddenly swerved out from under him, and with one final swoop, the boy tumbled head over heels out of the sky. Hair flying up in his face, he slammed flat on his back onto the lawn. He coughed violently as he hit the ground, breath completely knocked out of him from the force of impact. But wheezing and shivering quickly gave way to merriment and laughter. Laughter at how ridiculous a crash that had been. Laughter at his own damned insanity for doing it in the first place! Still gasping for air, the sorcerer was doubled over with mirth at his accomplishment, however poorly-landed.

After a moment, he forced himself to calm down. He closed his eyes and breathed in the chilly summer night. An icy breeze whipped over him as he lay there, rippling the grass at the boy's sides. Yue shivered as it passed him by. It was only now, as the adrenaline coursing through his system was beginning to wane, that he could truly appreciate just how cold he had become. Hands and feet were completely numb from the frigid, high-altitude gales. Honestly, he really _was _off his rocker! To think he had just tried that!

Somewhere in the distance, the tiny pitter-patter of feet was fast approaching. Yue smirked to himself. He didn't need his magical senses to know exactly who was rounding upon him just this moment—as he laid sprawled, tired, and defenseless on the ground. Perhaps if he hadn't known, he would have been a bit more on-alert, but in this case, the young sorcerer didn't even open his eyes to watch the newcomer approach.

"Hello, Mirror," he whispered into the night.

A tiny squeaking noise echoed throughout the lawn in response, and the approaching footfalls immediately stumbled and fell out of rhythm. Yue chuckled softly to himself, content enough that her response confirmed his suspicions: the young mirror sprit had been watching him here this entire time. Rolling onto his front, he flicked his icy violet gaze upon the young creature. "So," he chimed cheekily, "What's a fair young maiden like you doing out here so late at night?"

A small pale girl skidded to a halt beside him, her face flushed a brilliant shade of emerald. Yue sniggered quietly to himself. Honestly, that child simply made it too easy for him—she was so easily perturbed.

"What am _I _doing out here?" Mirror muttered in reply. She refused to look the boy in the eye—in fact, she had her head turned pointedly to the side as if to avoid him. Clearly she was trying not to let her own embarrassment overcome her. It wasn't entirely working. All the same, while the little sprite was obviously flustered, there was nonetheless a hint of annoyance in her voice. "I would ask you the same…"

Yue bit his lip slyly. Truth be told, he was still bubbling with impish mirth (and a variety of inciting hormones) from his high-risk flight attempt and was tempted to see just how far he could push this card. Mirror was normally very soft-spoken and, for some reason, became even meeker around her ruling guardian. Yue Reed had the lingering suspicion that, if he egged her on just a bit more, he might just get a rise out of the girl this time. She seemed quite frustrated with him already just from watching his little stunt, and that had to be a good sign.

Sighing as haughtily as he could muster, Yue stretched himself luxuriously across the grass behind him. With a pompous sort of toss to his hair, he let his gaze slide on to the spirit at his side—who was still defiantly attempting to ignore him. "Honestly, Mirror, dear," he purred, "you would ask the most powerful lunar sorcerer _in the world_ what he's doing out on a lovely evening such as this? On a night so full of beauty and majesty? Honestly who _do _you think you're speaking to? I've even been worshiped as the _god _of the moon, after al—"

He was suddenly met with something large, white, and fuzzy being whipped across his face. Whatever further comments the mage might have had, they were immediately stifled as he found himself smothered in a hot, fluffy expanse. What—what the hell was this? Some kind of magic? Were they being mauled by a bear? A surge of adrenaline shot back into his system as the very disoriented blond flailed about his woolen prison. For a few intense seconds, he thrashed about like a fish on a line, seemingly losing the battle with his attacker. Heart hammering in his chest, he at last broke surface again. As he gasped for air and tried to calm his leaping nerves once more, the sorcerer realized that the thing he had been fighting wasn't exactly what he had expected. There was no magic. There were no woodland creatures. In fact, it wasn't even animate. Instead, it appeared he had been wrestling all this time with a rather massive blanket, which had been tossed over his head. He blinked down at the material for a moment as if uncertain how exactly it had got there… Then he let his eyes slowly meander upwards to the small green spirit who was looming before him.

If Yue had wanted to get a rise out of his companion, he had certainly succeeded. Mirror's face was about as green as the grass at their feet, but the boy had a strange suspicion that this coloration was not from embarrassment. She looked livid. One clenched fist still hovered in the air; Yue could almost have followed the path of trajectory from her twitching fingers to the blanket that had been hurled at him.

"Sorry," the sorcerer whispered sleepily in her direction, "Just joshing you, I swear. I wanted to see how badly I could ruffle your feathers…"

Mirror muttered something under her breath which sounded very much like "I'll ruffle _your _feathers…!" (Yue felt a sudden heat rise up into his face—now it was _his _turn to be flustered.) Nonetheless, she sighed and the young mage watched her tensed figure loosen up once more. She cast a pair of exasperated eyes down upon the boy. "There's not snow out here to catch you anymore, you know!" she pouted, voice even higher and squeakier than usual, "You have to take more care—!" But already the sprite was much less angry than she had seemed a moment ago, and the mage was spared the rest of her lecture. Mirror sighed again.

"And you don't have to worry about me either," she continued, speech softening back to its usual levels; her words had suddenly become so silent that Yue had to strain to hear them: "Cards don't need sleep."

Yue sighed himself. Something about Mirror's tone had sobered him up like an ice bath and now whatever hormonal high he had been riding was rapidly fading away. He felt depleted—tired perhaps, not that he was going to say so to his companion. At that moment, a particularly chilly gust blew them by, ripping the glade with its icy hand. Yue shivered, unable to help himself. For the first time this evening, he was painfully aware that he was out here half naked, sweaty, with his entire upper body bared to the elements. Groaning both with annoyance and exhaustion, he gratefully wrapped Mirror's gift the rest of the way around his trembling body and lay back against the grass. He folded his hands across his chest, holding the blanket shut against the wind. He closed his eyes. Even through the thickness of the material, the young warlock could still feel his body racing with adrenaline beneath his fingertips. He released the tension he had been holding, letting the night air fill him up with its chill. Slowly, he began to calm.

At some point or another, the boy became aware of Mirror moving about. He heard the grass at his side rustle as she lay down beside him.

"I thought you were mad at me?" he jabbed weakly as she snuggled herself against his breast. The spirit made a rather indistinct sound in her throat, but said nothing. Yue smiled to himself. He knew she couldn't stay angry with him for long.

Yue breathed out heavily and went back to watching the winds overhead blow clouds across the starry sky. He wasn't entirely sure what his fascination was with the night: with the velvety black sky, the stars, the planets twinkling as they passed through the zodiac. He supposed it must be by association. His own power was of the moon, and so his place was here in the darkness. He was a child of the evening. Sometimes he wished that morning didn't have to come at all…

Mirror was curled up against his side like a cat seeking warmth; self-consciously, he could feel her weight shift and slide upon him as he breathed. Her long, sea-foam curls fanned out across the pale blanket that lay between them. She too had cast her gaze skyward and was watching the clouds roll by with a lazy sort of expression on her face.

Yue sighed, still gazing upon the night but not really seeing it any longer. A tiny pain was stirring up somewhere deep inside his chest. He wasn't sure exactly where it had come from, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it had little to do with physical exertion. It might have been there the longest time, and only now had it overwhelmed his senses such that he could not ignore it any longer... The hands folded neatly against his breast grasped tighter at the blankets beneath them—as if they sought to reach straight through and cradle the ache within. Against his will, the young mage felt his throat tighten again as it had in the skies. But this time he had no excuse, no cold, high-altitude winds to be taking his breath away.

"You know," Yue chided, "it's really all rather unfair…

"You cards get all the good perks," he whined with purposeful exaggeration, "it's not fair. You'd think Cerberus and I—as your _illustrious_ protectors—would get an occasional bonus like not needing sleep." He appeared to be loosening up again as he went on, though something in his tone was still not quite the same as it had been before.

"I'm not sure I would call it thusly…" Mirror muttered at his side, eyes still watching him carefully as if waiting to see if he would reveal what was going on inside him. Yue determinedly ignored her gaze.

"Perhaps we should try an experiment, then," he pressed on as if Mirror had not spoken at all. He stretched his arms luxuriously behind his head and laughed strainedly to himself in what he hoped sounded like good-natured mirth, "See how long I can keep going without sleep, starting now?"

Mirror growled in her throat, brow furrowing with irritation. She muttered his name softly in exasperation. This time Yue chuckled genuinely. "You wouldn't be able to go very long at all," she murmured, "you know that. You'd hurt yourself!"

Yue bit his tongue sheepishly. "How can I know for sure unless I try?" he asked cheekily. But despite his jovial attitude, there was still something sinking—something half-serious in his tone. Mirror seemed to be wizening up to it.

The card threw herself up on her knees in a huff, arms pressed firmly to her hips. She rounded on the boy. "You need to start getting serious," she nagged, poking him rather pointedly in the chest, "After all, _you're _the one who's—

"who's _**human**_!"

Her last word rang through the silent glade like gunfire, as though every tree, rock, and bush was shouting it back at them. Yue felt as if he had just been slapped him across the face with something cold and tingly. Immediately, he flushed a brilliant shade of vermillion, gaze meandering down toward the place where Mirror's fingers were nudging at his breastbone. Slowly, the mage collapsed back into the grass beneath the light pressure of her touch, pompous mask falling away completely. That word—that last word rang in his ears long after the sound had stopped about the lawn. Human, she had called him. Something about that idea made him feel rather ill inside. Clow was human, surely. But he… why, he was companion to Cerberus after all. He was a sorcerer, assuredly. Sorcerer, mage, warlock. But to be called _human_…

His eyes fell softly closed, no longer watching the sky above them. As the wind drifted past once again, he folded his hands neatly upon his chest once more; they rested softly against the material as if guarding something very precious beneath them. He lay there silently a good several seconds, listening to the new pounding sound that was beginning to fill his ears.

Mirror sighed, anger ebbing away as quickly as it had come. "Yue?" she muttered, sinking slowly back onto the ground again. When she received no answer, the card sighed. She lay herself gently beside her companion, gaze fixed upon the rolling clouds. She did not touch him, but when she spoke again, her voice was filled with the utmost compassion: "Whether you like it or not, you're _mortal_, Yue. You need to start attending to your physical needs, not joking about them."

"I know," Yue whispered softly for somewhere beside her, still locked in his solemn reverie, "But that's a hell of a lot easier to say from your side of the fence." He sighed, opening his eyes and letting his arms fall to his sides. The blanket covering him gave way in the middle as he released it, exposing a pale, tense torso into the cold touch of the wind. Mirror surveyed him with curiosity—and perhaps surprise—but said nothing. Yue determinedly avoided her gaze. "I know it's quite a thing to say from someone in my position," he whispered, "'Grass is always greener' and whatnot, but some days I think I would trade some of this mortality—_humanity_ if you like—for a few of your non-biological bonuses.

"Some days, I think I would trade you in a heartbeat."

Mirror frowned, sitting up to face him in a rustle of grass. "Purposeful choice of words?" she muttered questioningly, brow furrowed. Yue swallowed hard, but made no reply. The card sighed, letting her chin droop to her chest; her long torrent of curls cascaded down her like a waterfall. "I'm sorry," she murmured from somewhere beneath their curtain. Yue blinked, rather surprised at the girl's sudden change in attitude. He hadn't been expecting this sort of reaction… "I just worry about you is all," she whispered again, "You seem so eager…to put yourself in danger—to push yourself beyond your limits…"

Her voice fell away as another icy gale ripped past them up the lawn. Pressing himself up from the ground with his wings, the young mage sat up to meet her, long glistening hair billowing back behind him. Softly, he swept one side of the blanket around Mirror's shoulders, and tucked her into his chest. Gratefully, she accepted his offer, and snuggled closely to the boy as the breeze tore at their flesh. Yue held her tightly, wrapping his wings around the both of them in a kind of protective cocoon. They remained in each other's embrace until the frigid winds had at last passed them by.

At last, after a long while, Mirror released. Yue allowed his wings to part and the girl fell weakly to her knees, face now a strikingly dark shade of emerald green. Quietly, she murmured her thanks. Her voice was high and squeaky again as her companion had remembered it being on other occasions. "Are you all right?" he asked her, surveying the child with curious concern.

Mirror nodded solemnly. "I told you," she muttered, "You don't have to worry about me…"

"No,"

It was softly spoken, but nonetheless, the word echoed throughout the space between them. Mirror gave a little gasp, clearly not believing what she had heard. Yue was sitting calmly on the ground behind her, the dancing gales twisting through his hair. "No," he repeated quietly, leaning forward and dragging Mirror into a deep hug, "I think I do."

The little sprite whispered his name somewhere from deep within their embrace, but the sorcerer was proud to hear that her tone was neither one of disgust nor anger. If he had a name for it, he would have said she sounded tearful. Surprised. Grateful.

The pair of them fell back, settling amongst the grass as they had been before. Mirror sighed contentedly, snuggling close to her companion. An onlooker might not have suspected that anything had transpired between them at all. For a long while,

everything

was

quiet…

Mirror was the first one to break their silent vigil.

"You know," she chimed timidly, voice wavering a little as if uncertain whether or not she should be speaking, "At least you and Lord Cerberus have it easier than most mortal beings."

"Oh?" Yue half-chuckled to himself, both shocked and amused at his company's sudden suggestion. "How so?" he asked quietly, inviting the spirit to speak her mind.

Mirror bit her lip, cheeks beginning to flush with green once again. "Well," she murmured, twiddling her thumbs, "At least you don't have to worry about starving to death like other humans. I mean, you two can get by without eating just fine—and that has to be a perk over most other living beings."

For a moment, Yue said nothing. Then, quietly, he chuckled to himself, and ran a hand exasperatedly through his hair. Mirror blinked at him, head cocked with slight confusion. The mage bit his lip sheepishly, "Well, I suppose you have me there," he said softly, "Cerberus and I can technically live our whole lives without eating and whatnot..."

"But it's not exactly as if I can live without sustenance."

He heard the sounds of Mirror shifting very suddenly in the grass beside him, clearly taken aback by his strange response. Yue merely closed his eyes, letting his clasped hands hold the blankets close to his breast. "You heard me," he replied quietly, "you make it sound as if my brother and I are somehow liberated from a few of our Earthly bindings, but that's not true at all really." His brow furrowed and Yue felt his throat growing uncomfortably tight once more, but still he pressed on, "It's not really as if we're less dependent than any other beings."

"…Yue…" Mirror muttered beside him, voice clearly full of confusion—of concern.

But Yue did not turn to look at her. Instead, he kept his eyes firmly closed. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he continued: "You say I'm lucky I can at least live apparently without sustenance, but there is a serious flaw in that theory." For a split second, he paused, shifting against the grass as if not altogether comfortable with what he was going to say next.

"For example," he murmured, "I still need air to breathe, or I think you would find I die rather quickly. Still need…heart beating, blood flowing to survive—just like the rest of the people in the world..." he paused again, swallowing hard. "Once I tried to go without, you know," he continued gravely, "On a couple of occasions… I would simply bid my frame be still, breath to cease. But I could never sustain it for long. After a few moments, this flesh would grow weary at my foolishness. Despite my wishes, my chest would grow tight in protest, body rebel against its suffering." The hands clasped against his breast grew tighter as he spoke, until Mirror could see nail marks upon his fair skin at the blanket's edges. Yue opened his eyes, releasing his death-grip; he held his hands before him, as if scrutinizing them carefully in the half-light.

"You know," he murmured, as if unaware of the growing chill, settling in the air around him, "sometimes at night, when I can't sleep and I find myself lying awake in bed, I swear I can almost feel my flesh cannibalizing itself. Desperately tearing itself apart for its material needs, and then, come morning, sewing itself back together on the wings of magic."

Sighing, the young sorcerer let his arms drop to his sides. "Yes," he murmured tiredly, "Cerberus and I can survive without outside nutrition for quite some time, I imagine –provided we have a steady supply of magic, at least. But I don't believe by any means that the pair of us live on any less raw biological fuel than any other creature—

"_Not the fish of the sea, nor the fowl of the air, nor every other living thing that moveth upon the earth_."

The field all around them fell still and silent. For a short time longer, Yue kept his hands aloft. He felt the cool sting of the night air as it ran through his fingertips. He watched the stars, the moon, the rolling clouds above twinkle down at him as through a fleshy screen. Then, slowly, he let them fall again to his sides. He let out a long, slow sigh and kept his gaze raised to the heavens though not really seeing them any longer. Mirror he could just faintly glimpse out of the corner of his eye the entire time; she was half-lounging upon the grass still, but had raised herself up on her arms. She was turned towards the boy beside her, with a certain readiness about her form—as if she was watching him very carefully, prepared to make a move if necessary. Move for what? To console him? To rush valiantly to his side? Or merely because she felt like she should be doing _something_ but was not entirely sure what.

Yue laughed quietly to himself. Ah, what a fascinating study young maids were! And to think society would soon be expecting him to pine over girls like these: timid creatures who hardly know what to do with themselves in times of trouble. The world was indeed an absurd place—a _hilariously _absurd place!

"And besides all that," the boy continued, a sly, impish sort of look slowly settling about his face, "Even if I can survive indefinitely without eating, what good does it do me really when I still need water? Not really much of a convenience when you think about it."

Mirror paused for a moment more, still surveying her companion with a confused surprise playing about her midst. Then, softly, she smiled. Warming up to the mage again, she rolled her way closer to him and accepted his welcoming embrace once more. "You do still lord over that element, you know," she mumbled with playful indignance, "Water. You could always use your dominion to find other ways of hydrating your body instead of stopping to drink all the time. But somehow, I get the feeling you already do…"

Yue gave an evil chuckle beneath her, but said nothing to confirm or deny her accusation. Instead, he closed his eyes, and laughed lightheartedly that he still believed that Mirror had the better way. Silence once again filled the glade, but this time it was not the uncomfortable silence it had been before. This time, there seemed to be a peaceful sort of sound to the gales as they swirled about the two bodies on the ground. All the lawn rang with the sweet music of the night.

Yue laid like that for a long time: feeling the wind ripple his blankets, feeling the cold sting at his sweat-tinged brow. Mirror, he imagined, was still gazing at the stars. When she spoke again, it was with a misty sort of quality, as if her mind were more among the lights in the sky than beside him on Earth. "The moon is but a crescent tonight," she murmured airily, "but it is waxing. You might find your flying endeavors improve as the month progresses."

Yue smiled, opening his eyes and glancing up at the air above them. Clouds consumed almost the entire landscape now, and the moon had long-since vanished beneath their blanket. But clouds or not, he felt the truth in his companion's words. He didn't need to see. He never needed to see anymore…"I know," he whispered softly, "I know it's waxing…"

He heard Mirror give a tiny gasp beside him. Out of the edges of his vision, he watched her face flush a little with fresh green color. The young mage eyed her with a certain curiosity. What on earth was she flushing for? Out of admiration? Awe? Surely he hadn't done anything that particularly spectacular. "I should expect no less of you," the spirit said softly, a kind of quiet wonder playing about her tone.

Yue cocked an eyebrow, not entirely sure what Mirror was talking about, but certain it was covering up something he would not rather like. But the sprite said nothing further on the matter; as a cool wind whipped by again, she cuddled herself in closer to the boy's breast. "Now in the waxing cycle, our power grows more each night," she whispered, "Can you feel it?"

Yue smirked slightly, "always," he replied. Mirror said nothing, but the sorcerer could feel her trembling slightly within his embrace—a tremble which, he feared, had little to do with the chill. Sighing, he continued: "I can always feel the ebb and flow of the cycle—even in the daytime, I can always feel the power of the moon rushing over me…so that even when the sun is shining, it feels as eventide.

"Except…when the moon is new."

The mage felt the creature in his arms suddenly shift, and a moment later, a single green eye peeked curiously out at him amongst long strands of hair. Yue swallowed hard, trying not to notice her stare.

"When the moon is new," he whispered again with growing unease, "I feel as if I've been stripped naked day and night. As if I was one of those ordinary villagers down in the valley. Like a hunter stranded alone in the jungle—injured, alone, without his weapon—watching darkness fall around him, and predators moving in."

Yue let his voice fall away as the breeze blew another feeble gust over them. Mirror said nothing immediately. At first glance, she seemed to have gone back to aimlessly studying the cloud-strewn sky, but upon closer inspection, the boy could still see her watching him out of the corner of her eye. For several long moments, it seemed that she might not say anything else to him at all—as if she was surrendering, giving up on this stubbornly bleak dialogue. The mage sighed. Clearly this discussion wasn't going much of anywhere. No, no matter how hard he tried to lighten the mood, it seemed that the conversation was doomed to spiral down into seriousness and melancholy. Much like the night itself, it seemed that there were dark storms stirring within their spirits tonight.

"You're not like one of them."

The words came so suddenly that, for a moment, Yue thought he had imagined them. Tone was so suddenly grave that he almost could not believe his companion could have uttered it. Sitting bolt upright, he turned to face Mirror, his long streams of hair kicked up all around him by the winds. The young girl did not look particularly peaceful at all anymore. Her brow was furrowed with frustration and there was something distinctly dark playing about her eyes. For the first time that evening Yue truly felt cold. Not a chill of the breeze around them, but something frigid and heavy deep within him.

"You're not one of them," the spirit repeated, gaze still fixed blankly upon the heavens, "You're not like one of those powerless beings down in the village."

Yue blinked at her, not entirely certain what to say. Indeed, his brain seemed not to be processing this situation at all. He had never seen Mirror like this: she was usually such a happy, innocent and lighthearted spirit. But then again, the mage reminded himself with another swell of cold radiating throughout his insides, Mirror _was_ of his own sign…

As if she could read his mind, Mirror suddenly rolled over onto her side. Sighing, she glanced up and met her protector in the eye. There was something softer there again than had been there a moment ago, but her visage was nonetheless still somber and serious. "Yes, you're mortal, Yue—I would even say _human_—but you're not one of them either."

"Oh?" Yue responded tiredly, raising a hand to rub away a newly-forming headache from his temples, "And what exactly would you call me then, Mirror?"

"Artemis." She replied softly, "Diana. Khonsu, Thoth. Mên. Máni. Nanna. Tsukuyomi. Soma. Chang'e!

"Don't you get it, Yue?" she murmured quietly, "You're not just a man, you're a god incarnate—the spirit of the moon. One of the two primordial forces which nearly every culture in the world has worshiped in some way or another. Next to master Clow, you and Lord Cerberus are the two most powerful sorcerers in the world! Even at your weakest you're hardly comparable to some common muggle.

"And besides," she finished, most silent of all, "new moon is technically the _baseline _of your powers. Lunar power only gets _stronger_ as the cycle progresses…"

Yue said nothing. Slowly, he let himself slide easily back onto the grass beneath them. Somehow, just in the short time they had been out here, the air had already become thicker and heavier with humidity. It lay in dewdrops upon the ground and tickled at the back of his neck as he lay down against it. The cold seemed to sting with twice the bitterness. Absentmindedly fingering the blankets where the crossed above his chest, he whispered: "it certainly doesn't feel that way…"

From somewhere high above them, a low rumbling sound echoed down across the glade, and a flash of lightning flickered in the distant thunderheads on the horizon. Mirror shivered and gave a tiny squeak; reflexively, she drew herself in towards Yue's embrace, burring her face against his breast. Gently, the mage stroked her hair, hoping to calm the girl once more. His eyes, however stayed narrowed to the darkening clouds that were rolling in from the north.

"Why _is _it so cold out here?" Yue mused, shuddering as the last of the wind drifted away up the lawn. "It's July: it shouldn't be anywhere near this cold so late in the season."

Mirror squirmed slightly as she cuddled against him, as if to say she too was uncomfortable with the overall feel of the evening. "Yes," she muttered, tone slightly "it _is _strange…

"What does it mean?" Mirror asked timidly, voice still trembling with surprise as she peeked out from beneath her guardian's arms.

Yue's brow furrowed. "It means," he replied cryptically, "that there's a storm coming."

_AN: Ok, a couple of little references in here, but nothing major. "Artemis...Diana. Khonsu, Thoth. Mên. Máni. Nanna. Tsukuyomi. Soma. Chang'e!" All lunar deities from around the world. As one of the primordial spirits of the universe, I imagine Mirror is well versed on the myths of many cultures. In all truth, I went around to my friends and asked for all the lunar deities they could name so that hopefully I wouldn't get too many that were so obscure no one would recognize them. (Oddly enough, my personal Yue-muse came up with most of them... more proof that he should have wings XP) _

_Water. As most of you probably realize, I said something rather unusual up there with regards to Yue and Cerberus when it comes to water. You see, most people say in their stories that Yue and Cerberus can live without water as well as traditional forms of sustenance, but this creates a massive biological problem. the boys are depicted as fairly mortal in the series: I don't want to go into it in detail here, but it suffices to say that one can find evidence that they generally bleed, and breathe, and feel pain and whatnot in a very human way. The long and short of it is that this must mean they have a human metabolism which is still somehow able to be partially supplied by magic...The long and short of it is, it all works a hell of a lot better from a biological standpoint if they at least have a need for water. So that's what I did. :3_

_New Moon. I took another change from tradition here. Many writers for some reason like to write in that Yue gets weaker and becomes more vulnerable when new moon comes (in many fics he either gets curb stomped at this time or sick as hell...). I personally think that would suck, and furthermore that it's not quite fair: Yue already has one magic-related handicap, so giving him a second one doesn't seem right (especially when Cerberus rarely is ever given such a weakness say when the sun goes down). So, drawing on a quote by Cerberus from the manga (about full moon being the peak of Yue's powers) I decided to make new moon his baseline powers equal with Cerberus', and the increasing lunar cycle like a power bonus as the month progresses. Now what does this mean for a lunar eclipse? Mu ah ha ha ha ha... :D_

_"__Not the fish of the sea, nor the fowl of the air..." A play on Genesis 1:28. Since I depict Yue as a bit of a Baroque-era book worm, I like to give him quotes from what would have been some of the more celebrated literature of the day (like the Bible. The Bible was huge in Baroque era England. :P)_


	19. The Calm

_**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**_

_**Part Four: Card Games**_

**Chapter 11, The Calm**

Over Lightwater, a chilly wind was blowing.

The village square was long-since deserted at this hour—the desolate buildings and lampposts echoed with an eerie silence. The ghostly wind danced about their facades like a lonely, supernatural visitor. As it struck against the doors and gates, one could almost have imagined that it was knocking, begging to be let in.

The summer had been a rather harsh one for the little Surrey town. The plains all up and down the valley were dried-up and brown. Blades of grass crackled beneath the feet of scavenging animals and kicked up easily into the gales. The crops were not fairing too well either. Farmers all across the area watched their fields, waiting anxiously to see if the harvest would pan out. Leaves had turned prematurely yellow upon the branches of trees. Lamely they fell to the ground, and twirled limply about the breeze. The river, which had once roared with life, was now more like a tiny trickle in a muddy riverbed. The summer sun had baked the land like a fresh loaf of bread.

The wind kicked up a plethora of dirt from the cracked ground. Clouds of dust and grass and leaves thundered across the silent Lightwater square. From somewhere out in the gloom, a hacking cough reverberated off the deserted buildings.

The clouds above parted ways for a moment and a flicker of moonlight descended upon the pavilion. Amidst the darkness and the silence of the night, a shadowy figure stood solemnly alongside the road. He cast an eerie silhouette against the glittering store windows around him—as if he was a void: a void into which the faint light of the evening simply could not penetrate. The velvety black surround obscured his features such that only the most basic of characteristics could be discerned. His build was slight and thin, judging by the way his vest hugged tightly at his torso. He was neither short nor tall, and his face was framed by a long cascade of curls. The outline of wide, puffy shirt-sleeves fluttered about his arms—he was still in his day clothes.

Slowly, the figure began to stir. He looked left. He looked right. He twirled on spot and took in the indistinct forms of the landscape around him. Indeed, he seemed rather puzzled by something in the night. Apparently giving up his search, the man froze and let his shoulders sink into a slump. He let his eyes drift up to the heavens above him, where the moon was now shining down buckets-full of light onto the square. As he moved, his curtains of hair parted and fell gracefully onto his shoulders. His face lit up at once with the glow of the evening.

Long golden locks glimmered in the moonlight. Bright azure eyes twinkled like the stars above. Benjamin Hawkins stood rooted to the spot, his brow furrowed. The moon in his sky rained down beams not as a tiny crescent, but as a full and glorious lamp against the stars.

Something was very wrong here.

Hawkins continued to stare thoughtfully up at the heavens as swirls of icy wind billowed about his ankles. He wasn't entirely certain what he was doing out here—or how he had come to be in this place. Truthfully, the last thing the good doctor remembered was closing shop for the night and preparing his bed. He did not remember going outside, yet here he was. And the clothes that adorned him… he glanced down at the lavish golden vest that was sparkling on his chest. He did not recognize it. Assuredly he recalled that it had been a curiously cold evening, but as for the rest of his surroundings…he hadn't the foggiest.

Deep blue eyes were still watching the moon above as if they expected it to change suddenly. Hawkins knew full well that he was not always in his right mind from time to time. There were occasions in which he had completely lost track of reality before—having been sucked into some fanciful vision. Things had been that way since he had first…'met'…Clow's boys back in the summer of 1681. The other inconsistencies he might be tempted to believe, but not this.

Dr. Benjamin Hawkins had been a physician and a surgeon his entire life—short though that had been thus far. It was a craft he had picked up from his father, who had been the town doctor before him. Ever since he was a child, the young Ben had studied anatomy and physiology; he had studied philosophy, and history, and chemistry, and all the other sciences required of the medical profession. And naturally, these included a knowledge of astrology.

If he remembered correctly, the moon should be nowhere near full tonight.

But despite all these glaring inconsistencies, Hawkins did not seem at all troubled by his situation. Indeed, as he stood there, the cold evening air tearing at his flesh, he appeared almost at ease. Calm. Serene.

This was not new phenomena for the town physician—he had had many flights of fancy before. He was certain that if he waited here patiently, an answer to his questions would present itself.

As he was standing there meditatively, another cold gust of wind kicked up from the rear, tousling the man's hair and stinging at his skin. Hawkins shivered violently, huddling in his arms until the squall passed. For the ferocity of this chill, he might have been standing stark naked before the gales! Such strange weather this night… Here the land around him looked clearly barren from the heat, and yet tonight he seemed to be freezing! If time was flowing in the manner he recalled (for he made no assumptions), then it was supposed to be well into July by now. There should be no reason for this surprisingly cold weather!

He could only assume that one hell of a storm front must be rolling in.

As if it had been somehow summoned by his thoughts, the doctor suddenly became aware of a light behind him. He whirled about on spot to get a better look at it. It was not a brilliant sort of light, but rather a soft, flickering, kind. He was certain it had not been there before, but at the same time, he was hard pressed to explain where it had come from so abruptly. Whatever the source, it was some ways off in the distance. Though hard to be certain, it looked as if somewhere near the front of town, across the bridge, there was an orange glow on the horizon—almost like a great bonfire was being erected there.

The doctor was not aware of consciously deciding to move, but of their own accord, his feet began to draw him towards the light. First, his steps were stumbling.

Then an easy walk.

A brisk jog.

Before he knew it, Benjamin Hawkins was running down the street in the direction of the flames, filled with utter curiosity...and perhaps something else. What on earth would someone be building a bonfire for this late at night? At the back of his mind, an answer seemed already to be forming, but the doctor ignored it. Determined to find out properly, he bid himself run faster and faster still until he was tearing down the alleyways with undue haste.

But though he was running with all his might, Hawkins began to notice something strange. The world around him was suddenly moving at a snail's pace. Though his chest was burning with effort and his legs were protesting the strenuous speed at which he was jogging, he seemed to be getting nowhere quickly. As he ran farther, things began to get stranger still.

Slowly, the scene about him was changing.

No longer was the town deserted and quiet. All around, the murmur of a great many people began to fill the once-silent night. Their tones were still hushed and indistinct, as if the speakers were yet a long way away. But nonetheless, he could still hear them clearly over the gales: as if the entire town had suddenly stepped out of their houses and were speaking to the darkness.

As he ran on, he also noticed something else: it was not so cold anymore. Indeed, the farther the doctor ran, the warmer the atmosphere apparently became—until it felt hot and sticky on his flesh. The air was no longer dry, but thick and heavy with humidity. As he jogged, Hawkins broke into a coughing fit yet again. But this time it was not dust and leaves upon which he was choking, but wispy puffs of smoke and ash. They filled the night sky where dark storm clouds had been before, and blew up into the man's face as he dashed onward.

A terrible sinking sensation was beginning to settle in the doctor's stomach. He was nearing the bridge now and time was speeding back up again. The glow of the fire was not faint and distant anymore, but bright and roaring. The clamor of voices grew to a cacophonous pitch. They were not just conversing—they were _screaming_. Shouting! Taunting! Cheering! _Damning_! Hawkins felt his insides tying themselves in knots. The thoughts he had brushed away earlier thundered to the forefront of his mind.

He knew what this looked like. He knew what this _sounded_ like. But it couldn't be. That sort of thing didn't happen in England. That sort of thing didn't happen in _Lightwater_. That sort of thing hadn't happened in _decades_! Not like this, at least.

In his heart of hearts, the physician prayed that things were not as they seemed. He prayed that this was merely a party that had gotten out of hand. Or perhaps this was some natural catastrophe. He knew that there had been no serious crime lately…

As he dashed down the last few stretches between himself and the chaos, Hawkins felt the anticipation inside him grow ever more fervently. A cold trickle was working is way down his spine. His throat was suddenly becoming very tight. Beneath his breast, his heart was hammering like a wild animal, but somehow he doubted it had much to do with exertion.

As he rounded the last bend, time stood still, and so did the good doctor's breath.

Crowds—massive, _massive_ crowds—lined the streets on either side. Their faces were frozen in the moment: some gleeful, some frightened, some furious! But all of them screaming—_shouting_! Some were in their night clothes, some were not. Children clung tightly to their mother's skirts, but the women themselves were cheering just as fervently as were their husbands! Some of them were armed with the most mismatched array of weapons, all hoisted high.

Hawkins watched them. He stopped and stared into each one of their faces. This was not a party. This was not a brawl. In the eyes of his fellow villagers, there was a wild sort of glimmer. Drool trickled down the faces of some of the men and women as they shrieked. Unrestrained. unashamed. _fury_.

Fury.

Bloodlust.

Hatred.

It was framed in the faces of everyone on the street. In the men. In the women. Even in the children who clung to their parents. It was in the eyes of the angry, the gleeful, and the fearful alike. Hatred. Fury.

The sinking feeling that was settling in the doctor's stomach felt like it had dropped to his knees. What would make them all look this way? Behave this way? What—?

But even as he was thinking it, the dark realization that had been building in Hawkins' mind slowly began to turn 'round. It swirled and stewed inside of him until it consumed his entire being—until he could ignore it no longer! The anger. The hatred. The glow of the fire.

It couldn't be.

It _shouldn't _be.

It was illegal!

The world was slowly beginning to move again but the doctor's racing heart did not seem to have gotten the memo. As the lips of the villagers began to form curses once more, as their arms began to pump up and down their armaments, as their wild eyes rolled in their skulls…it remained still, waiting inside his breast.

Behind him, the fire began to crackle once more. It cast down patches of light upon the doctor's head. It shot waves of sticky heat against his back. But still he remained rooted to spot, daring not even to breathe. He refused to look at the flames. He kept his stunned eyes locked firmly upon his fellow townsmen as if unwilling to believe they were really there.

Sounds began to fill the air again. Time was still speeding up despite the doctor's wishes—despite his desperation for the next moment to never come! The sounds of hoots and hollers cut out across the night. The fire behind him crackled and roared. The hands and feet of all the assembled banged upon the ground, upon the walls of the surrounding houses. They all struck into a kind of rhythm. One, two. One, two. They pulsed like some hideous heartbeat.

At first there were outliers—screams, shouts, fists pounding in fury—who stood out from the crowd. But slowly, very slowly, the longer Hawkins listened, the more they blended into one. Like a choir warming up. Like an orchestra tuning. One by one, they all fell into place. One, two. One, two. Until the entire crowd surged like a great wave. Until a cacophonous pulse of fury and hatred and anger swam throughout the street.

Benjamin Hawkins could feel them calling to him—dragging him in amongst them. Still moving at half their usual speed, the cries and cheers of the townsfolk seemed nearly hypnotic. He almost felt that he could fall asleep here. Right here. Lulled into slumber by the repetitive beat of some disgusting lullaby. The heat of the flames was going to his head. Suddenly they felt warm, sickly warm. Inviting. And the drumbeat of the villagers trooped on. He felt his eyelids growing heavy.

Almost like…

He could…

Just…

A noise like nothing the doctor had ever heard before cut across the square. It was screeching. It was _wrenching_! Hawkins snapped out of his reverie at once, clasping his hands over his ears. He fell to his knees, bowing to the power of the sound. It screamed, screamed such as the poor man could scarcely have imagined. What was that? What was that god-awful noise? He felt that it might just tear his heart in two!

"_NOOOOOOOO!"_ a young voice screeched—screeched into the night.

Who was that screaming? Who were you? Could a human voice even make such a terrible noise? Or was it the very wrath of heaven itself that was descending upon them? The beat of the villainous heart was picking up pace. Now there were other sounds too. The screams. The shouts. The curses bellowed by the villagers—bellowed with such vigor and utter power that their voices cracked under the effort.

Time, at last, had caught back up. The child's screams were drowned by the earsplitting sound of the mob; but still, somehow, against all odds, they cut through.

"_Noooooooooooo!"_ the young voice wailed again, "_FATHER!"_

Hawkins clasped a hand to his chest for the pain—that child's pain. The pain that was cutting right through him—that was _inside him! _The other he kept clamped tightly over his ears, desperately trying to keep them covered. He felt like they might bleed from the piercing tone of this child's screams!

"SHUT IT!" some rough, masculine voice screamed in reply, "You little _WITCH_!"

There was the sound of flesh striking flesh. The child screamed once again—in pain! The terrible shrieking cry of pain! A horrible, wet, crunching sound greeted the doctor's ears. The sound of ribs cracking—of bone being hurtled deeply into a fragile young body. A flash of white-hot burn rippled through the doctor's body. He barely resisted the urge to be sick on his shoes.

The young one's screams faded away for the moment. Through the clamor of the crowd, Hawkins could still somehow perceive the heavy, moaning breathing that had taken its place. A wicked, masculine voice chuckled with inappropriate merriment.

…

This couldn't be happening. That couldn't be—_this couldn't_ be…!

…

**He heard someone vaguely murmur to "stop it."**

…

It couldn't be. It _couldn't_ be!

…

**The masculine voice laughed again. "'S not like it really matters,"**

…

Couldn't be! _Couldn't be!____COULDN'T BE!_

…

"**After all: whoreson brat's gonna die tonight either way!"**

The voice was laughing. The deep, male voice was laughing. Coldly. Evilly. And the child was screaming again. Screaming for his father—!

…

Screaming for _his_ father!

…

'Whoreson' he'd said. A boy! A _male_ witch! A _young, __**male**_ witch!

…

…

"DOCTOR HAWKINS!"

Hawkins' head snapped up at once. Eyes darted immediately to the center of the crowd across the way. There, the gaze of fair eyes fell softly onto his own. Amidst the crowd, amidst the screams and the calls and the jeers, he found him. He found the boy, the boy who had been screeching at him.

For a moment longer, time stood still.

"Dr. Hawkins," he whispered again, voice soft and weak, "Ben…! Please! Help us…"

Fair, violet eyes bored into his soul.

…

And at last, the doctor broke out of his trance.

He was standing in the middle of the street where a massive bonfire had indeed been erected. On either side of him, crowds of villagers lined the sidewalks and leaned out of their homes. Everyone was shouting—both cheering for _what_ was about to happen, and shouting curses at the one to _whom _it was about to happen. But he couldn't look at the fire just yet. No, what had caught his attention first was something that was going on opposite him, on the far side of the road, facing the flames.

Amidst the crowd, a cluster of black-clad figures stood around a pale young boy. Each one of them was abnormally tall and large, judging by their stature. Given their attire, somehow the doctor doubted they were there to _protect_ the child in their midst. The boy himself looked simply dreadful. Fair porcelain skin was now chalk-white, such that every vein showed upon his flesh. As he stood there, fighting against his captors, Hawkins could tell that his limbs were trembling. He was covered in a fine coating of sweat; it rolled off his brow and formed visible droplets in the air as he thrashed about. Partially, Hawkins supposed it was from effort. But he greatly suspected (with a sinking sensation in his stomach) that the other part was a cold sweat of fear.

His dress was curious too. Up and down his pallid, shaking body, all he seemed to be wearing was a long sheet of white flannel. It hung loosely about his shoulders and fitted him scarcely as well as a pillow case. Already, it was dirt-strewn and half translucent with perspiration. He could hardly fathom why the boy would be wearing it.

Why _this boy_. Yue Reed.

Soft, desperate violet eyes locked onto Hawkins' from across the way. Once more, the high, shrieking voice called out his name.

Why? Why child? Why are you screaming? Why are you pleading for me?

A tall man in front elbowed the child in the ribs again and he doubled over with pain, piercing gaze tearing away. His attacker was laughing—mercilessly laughing! From behind him, several of the darkly-clad individuals were grabbing at his long, flowing hair. They pulled his neck back so suddenly that Hawkins nearly feared it might snap.

What on earth was going on?

"Yue!" A voice from behind screamed. "YUE!"

"CERBERUS!" The young blond screeched in return, desperately trying to pull away from his captors.

Hawkins whirled around just in time to see a flash of orange. A desperate looking animal was clawing fiercely at the makeshift cage he had been shoved into. Tears streaming down his face, he beat bloodied paws against the grates. "YUE!" he screamed again, fresh streams of saltwater bursting forth from his eyes.

"Shut it!" One of the beast's carriers yelled, giving the cage a violent shake. "I'll have me a _pelt_ out of ye, ye little demon!"

Cerberus shrieked once more and hurtled himself again and again against his prison until he was at last dragged too far into the crowd for Hawkins to see anymore. The doctor stared blankly at the place where the creature had disappeared. A pelt out of him…?

The dark, sinking sensation was now spreading through the man's entire body. A cold, horrible realization was starting to dawn on him. He knew what was going on here, but…

To his rear, Yue gave yet one more shriek of fear and pain and anguish. The hands in his hair had drawn up old, rusty daggers. For a moment, Hawkins' heart lurched, fearing they were going to run the child through with their dirty knives. But the men continued to hold the boy down, and the hands remained entwined in his long, crystalline locks. Stretching them out as far as they would go, they hacked away at the long cascade. They cut them away one by one like barbarians skinning some captured game. The tension of their grip was so great that Yue Reed almost fell each time they tore away yards of his beautiful tresses. Tears and screams burst forth from his tiny frame like tidal waves shattering a dam. His captors hacked and cut away until the boy's mangled, dirty hair fell loosely about the base of his neck.

"There we go!" the men taunted, still bearing down upon their prisoner.

"You'll go up nice and pretty now, won't you?" another goaded.

"Yeah! You're next for the pyre!" A third squealed, "You little _witch_!"

The words, the cries, the sounds of the crackling fire filled the doctor's thoughts. A pelt of Cerberus. Calling Yue a whoreson witch. 'He'll die tonight'. 'Go up nice and pretty'. 'Next for the pyre'.

"Father..." Yue muttered weakly once more, tears leaking from his eyes.

The cries of the villagers at last began to get clearer. "Burn them!" he heard a woman cry. "Light it!" screamed another,

"Burn him!" "Burn them!"

"BURN IN HELL!"

And Yue was sobbing the entire time. Muttering a single word, a single name. "Clow," his lips softly whispered, "Clow…" Yue, condemned as a witch. Dressed in cheap scrap cloth. 'Next for the pyre'. They cut away his long flowing hair…

…

They cut it away so it wouldn't catch fire.

They cut it away so the rest of him would catch fire first.

They cut it away to burn him to death. To burn the witch…at the stake.

…

And _**next**_ for the pyre—!

Slowly, Hawkins turned around—facing the one thing he had feared, had _avoided_ all this long night.

Immediately to his side stood the fire.

It was not the largest pyre he could have imagined—certainly he had read about even greater ones abroad—but it was certainly not small. Enough kindling to have perhaps built a small cabin was gathered at its base. Already, the fire upon it was raging and roaring, but something told the good doctor that the 'fun' was just beginning. This little campfire was not yet a roaring inferno, it was but a tiny flicker. Slowly, his eyes danced amongst the flames, meandering up towards the heart of the pyre. There he saw the pole. The long, metal pole that had been anchored in the center of the blaze. His heart began to hammer against his chest again. The doctor dare not look on! But now that his eyes had started, there was apparently no stopping them!

"Hawkins?"

The voice was quiet, hoarse. For a moment, the doctor thought it must be his imagination.

His eyes finished their meandering.

For a moment, Benjamin Hawkins scarcely recognized the man before him, chained to the stake. Like Yue, he appeared to be dressed in little more than a tunic of flannel—although this man's dress was hardly as white even as Yue's. It was stained a dark, off-white color. Stained. Imperfect. But nonetheless, he could tell that it was intended to be white.

White for Yue. But cream for Clow.

Wide blue eyes locked onto their almond-shaped counterparts. Clow gave a teary laugh from somewhere above him, on the pyre. He wasn't wearing his glasses. The doctor supposed that was because they wouldn't burn.

Besides, what need had Clow to see now?

"Goodbye, Hawkins," The old sorcerer muttered with a whimper. Hawkins merely stared on in disbelief.

This couldn't be happening. This was England. This was _Lightwater! _This was _CLOW REED!_

He watched the flames pick up. He watched as they trickled through Clow's toes and licked at the sides of his garments. For one moment longer, they were frozen in time.

And then, suddenly, the winds picked up again.

The breeze Hawkins had been shivering in earlier kicked up once more from the south—and this time it came thundering at them with new ferocity! The doctor ducked away as the flames were instantly fanned into a towering inferno. Clow's screams pierced the icy night air. Cold. Agonizing. Screams.

And in an instant, it was not just Clow who was on fire.

All of Lightwater was burning! The stores! The streets! The citizens gathered all around! Everything was on fire and burning and screaming! Everything! And he—_HE was on fire too!_ Instantly, flames erupted like hot blisters out of the physician's flesh, and Hawkins screamed for mercy as white hot pain blinded his vision.

_Burn._ Echoed the voice in his mind.

_Burn!_

Everything was burning! Everything _is_ burning!

And the old woman's cries were filling his ears again:

"_Burn in hell!"_

"_Burn in __**hell**__!"_

"_BURN IN HELL, YOU SINNERS!"_

…

A clap of thunder shook the town of Lightwater and Benjamin Hawkins shot out of his bed with a start. It was 1 July 1683. There was no fire. The moon was but a mere crescent. And there was a storm coming.

…

…

This place was quiet like the night.

A pale, blue-grey sky hung high in the heavens. Long streams of clouds covered the sun and rolled off into the distant miles ahead. North. South. East. West. In every direction.

A thin, waiflike fog drifted lowly about the ground. It twisted through long, billowing waves of grass and wafted up like smoke. Like steam off a teakettle. Like the fingers of specters, reaching up from the earth.

There was a cool breeze blowing about the plains. It made the fog dance upon its breath. It sent the grass rippling like waves out at sea. The sorcerer amongst their midst shuddered.

Amid the wide, rolling planes and the dancing blades of grass, a tall, stooped figure knelt lowly to the ground. He could feel the chill of moistened earth beneath his legs and hands and feet. He felt the tickle of the grass stalks as they brushed against his skin. Most severely of all, he felt the sting of the wind and recoiled slightly.

He couldn't recall how he had come to be in this place—or even where this place was. Vaguely, he remembered eventide upon the manor, but not this place. No, he did not know what he was doing here.

Slowly, the man stood. Reaching down, he brushed away the dirt away from his knees and shook it from his palms.

The weak afternoon light filtered down upon the fellow, and he realized that he was naked. Flesh, so used to being buried beneath a plethora of robes, sparkled with pallor. For a moment only, he felt a twinge of shame at his appearance. He felt that he should dive back into the grass: like he should run. Hide himself. Cover himself back beneath his usual mask of clothing. But, to his surprise, the urge passed him by as quickly as it had come. No, he was not ashamed of his nudity (although he hadn't the slightest idea how he had come to be that way). For some reason, he felt right at home here like this, out among the dancing breeze and the swaying flora. The only thing that still gave him a twinge of unease was the sorry paleness of his skin. He needed to come out here more often—out into the wind and the earth and the sunlight. Perhaps that would tan him up a bit again.

For a while, he stood contentedly that way: allowing the gentle gales to rush over him, feeling his unchained hair flutter in the breeze. It was a good sort of feeling, to be out here alone in the half-light. He was at such peace here… he couldn't even think of leaving it. He thought very seriously for a moment about lying back down upon the dirt and falling blissfully back to sleep. The warmth of the hiding sun and the cool of the wind almost bid him to do so. As if they were calling him—calling their son back to his Mother Earth. He was sorely tempted to go—to heed their calls. It was just so nice out here. All alone…

But then, he wasn't so alone anymore.

Out of the silence of the afternoon, a voice whispered his name.

The man froze in his tracks, half way between standing and kneeling. He held his breath and glanced furtively about, but still, he saw no one.

But just as he was about to settle himself amidst the grass, the voice called his name once more. This time the man pushed himself to his feet, ready for action. Only a fool would believe that he could have imagined it twice. No, he mustn't be alone out here. There must be someone else: someone calling to him! He was certain this time that he had heard it!

But as he looked slowly around him, peering off into the distance, he still saw no one. All that greeted his eyes were the rolling plains of grass and the thick clouds above.

The voice spoke again, more clearly this time—as if the speaker was right behind him! The man immediately wheeled around…

But once again, there was nothing.

"Where are you…?" he whispered with exasperation, sinking slowly to his knees. "Where are you, little angel?"

The voice chuckled, its laughter echoing across the plains as if it was coming from every direction at once. It bounced around inside the poor fellow's mind like a taunting demon. "So silly are humans," the stranger whispered against the sound of its own reverberating glee, "where the angels always are, of course!"

No sooner were the words spoken, then a sudden gust of wind thundered down upon the stunned sorcerer from above and the sound of massive, flapping wings greeted his ears. His heart leapt in his breast. He threw back his head so fast that his neck protested in pain and his eyes watered! But the man did not care. Casting his gaze skyward, he just barely caught a glimpse of something large and white flying off into the distance, chuckling merrily at him all the way.

What reason he may have had flew instantly from the sorcerer's mind. Any peace, any sense of tranquility was instantly shattered! Cast to the ground like the discarded toy of a child. No, he had a much better toy now—a much better game to play. And that game was quickly rushing off without him! Feeling very much like that hypothetical child in this case, the man launched to his feet. With not a moment to lose, he shot off from the ground like a rocket and tore off after the retreating shape.

Over hill and dale, he tore across the plains in pursuit of the illusive creature skimming the skies above him. The grass ripped at his ankles as he ran. Here and there, he nearly tripped over a pebble or a root or a vine. Narrowly he avoided several stubbed toes. But he didn't care. He knew that voice! And all the obstacles that Mother Nature could provide would not stop him this time! No. This time he _would_ be the valiant knight! He _would_ appear right on time! There could be no interruptions out here in this peaceful place—nothing to stop them!

As he ran on, the sky above him seemed to grow darker. He could no longer see the faint shadow on the ground, directing him after his quarry. The laughter that had rung through the valley

slowly

Fell

Silent…

"Little angel?" the fellow cried, slowing his pace and glancing furtively at the skies above him. He received no reply. And the heavens betrayed sign of neither friend nor fowl sailing amongst their gales. Only clouds loomed above.

But still, the sorcerer tore on, his long hair whipping out behind him. With unwavering purpose, he dashed off across the varied topography of this strange field. He ran straight with determination towards the place he had last followed his little sprite. No. Not this time. This time was perfect! This time he would succeed—! The wind tore at the man's naked body, twice as cold and as fierce as it had been before. But neither did he let this deter him. Still he dashed onward. Still and still! Even as his legs began to ache with strain—even as a little voice inside his head started to whine of the incredible illogic!—still he hurried onward, strides as wide as a mountain lion.

He tore on with resolution! With determination! With—!

As he bounded over the top of a particularly large hill, the man stopped dead in his tracks, feet slipping and skidding upon the grass. He let his resolve fall, gasping to catch his breath. But it seemed that his very breath had been taken away from him that particular moment.

"Clow?" a tiny voice whispered from a short distance beyond. Clow swallowed hard, eyes soaking in every inch of the scene.

Before him, down in a little valley on the other side of the hill, a wide, peaceful plain billowed out across the land. The winds, which had been roaring so fiercely overhead seemed not to penetrate here, in this sanctuary amidst the hills. The grass swayed enticingly with the light, cool breeze. A dusting of tiny white flowers graced the landscape, and in the center of it all…

"…Yue…" he muttered weakly, voice cracking with happiness and exhaustion.

Against the backdrop of the darkening sky, Yue Reed shone like a beacon of light where he stood, rooted in the grass. His long, flowing hair danced and fluttered in the wafting wind. Even in the half-light, it sparkled like long strands of diamond. As with Clow, he too was entirely naked, but for some reason, his companion did not mind this. Like a great cosmic censor bar, the wind had blown his long silvery tresses around his frame and through his thighs, allowing only glimpses of pale flesh as the gales blew over. But for once, Clow didn't mind. Long-feathered wings were tucked close for the cold. Out of the storm of white, the surprised stare of violet eyes seemed to penetrate to the sorcerer's very soul.

Soft tears of joy rolled down Clow's face, but he did nothing to stop them. He wept. For the beauty of it all, he wept. For the joy of accomplishment, for the glorious peace of this place, for the soft smile playing about his quarry's face, he wept.

He wept.

He wept.

He was not consciously aware of his feet moving, but in a heartbeat, he was there among the flowers. He was there beside his fragile beauty, and Yue's arms were snaking around him. The both of them drew in to each other in a fervent embrace. Clow relished the sudden chill down his spine as he laced his hands around the boy's back. He felt the soft touch of feathers grace his sides as wide, powerful wings curled around their entwined bodies, protecting them from the cold. Sighing, Clow leaned in and buried his face in Yue's hair. He was bathed in a world of fresh lilacs and rainwater.

"I can't believe I found you…" he muttered contentedly, letting his head slide down against his lover's shoulder.

He felt the soothing touch of Yue's long fingers stroking his hair. "You never have to find me," his quiet, sultry voice whispered. "I will always be here…"

Clow's heart leapt inside his breast, but it did not race this time as it had done in the past. No, this time he was filled with peace—with joy. An absolute happiness had descended upon him here somehow—in this place, in this boy's arms! He was in complete control here…_somehow_. Passion as he had never felt before burned within him like a great raging fire….but somehow, he was in control of it!

In one fluid motion, as if they had both somehow decided it, the pair of them slowly fell back in their embrace. Yue's wide wings parted, and he laid himself splayed upon the grass, body still thoroughly intertwined with his master's above him. He moaned softly beneath Clow's caresses, as if just the very touch of their skin upon skin held some magic power. Clow bore down gently upon the boy's tiny frame. Bowing his head, he planted a row of soft kisses down the child's breastbone. Each more tender and emotion-heavy than the last. Yue sighed with pleasure at every renewed touch, back arching and sliding against the grass. When he had reached the base, where bone met soft flesh, his elder leaned back and took a detour. Pausing only for a moment, Clow bent over once more and placed his last, most affectionate kiss lowly upon boy's left breast—where a faint shadow was fluttering against his flesh like a candle in the wind. With a shiver, the wizard felt the tiny pulse of life tickle at his lips, and the cooling aura of Yue's magic rush over him like a mighty wave.

Unable to take it any longer, Clow let out a soft moan of satisfaction. Sinking like a limp flower stem, he collapsed against the boy beneath him, contented smile playing about his face.

"…I think I love you," he whispered softly, desperately, as he nuzzled his forehead into the mage's chest. "I _love_ you, Yue!"

Yue let out one more indistinct sound of ecstasy. Streams of tears trickled away from his tightly-closed eyelids. "… I love you too…" he murmured.

Collapsing into each other, they reached reached out and drew into their tightest embrace. Quiet tears filling the space between them.

At last—_at_ _last_ they were together! At _long last_, they were here, in each other's arms. It was all so perfect—so very perfect! He could not imagine a more blissful moment! How long had he dreamed? Had he fantasized? Had he desperately hoped? And now he had said everything he had wanted to say—needed to say! And now, at last, they could be together!

It was all so perfect!

…

It was _too_ perfect.

…

And then, it wasn't.

A loud clap of thunder suddenly erupted in the silent, peaceful glade. It echoed like the cannon fire of an entire invading army. It tore at the air and wrenched at the soul. Shrieking with pain at the sudden intensity of noise, Clow clasped his hands tightly over his ears. Darkness instantly consumed the valley.

And there was nothing.

Claps of thunder continued to roll overhead. The war in the skies carried on. It pounded at the sorcerer's eardrums until he felt certain they would bleed! The dark around him was even deeper than the night. It was complete darkness—all-consuming. He could see neither his beloved child, nor the grass of the glade, nor even his own body, withering and contorted against the sound.

Lightning flashed, burning at the magicians eyes like hot acid. Winds whirled around him at typhoon-force gales. Thunder boomed again and again. This was not the same night it had been a moment ago. This was no longer the peaceful valley.

"Yue!" he screeched, leaping to his feet. Eyes darted this way and that, desperately trying to see through the darkness, but still not a thing swam into view. Certainly not a pale, beaming beauty such as he had held only a moment ago.

The lightning flashed again, blinding Clow for a second time. He recoiled, tripping over the hem of his robes. Unceremoniously, he toppled to the ground below, taking in a face-full of wet earth and grass. Coughing and spluttering, the sorcerer rolled himself onto his back once more.

"Yue!" He screamed again, but still, no sign of the boy met his eyes. Rain was pouring down from above such as he had never seen before. Already, his clothes were soaked with the rain and wind and infernal mud around them. This was not a mere storm, this was an outright tempest!

His eyes were adapting now such that he could almost see the faint outlines of rolling hills and trees around him. Trees. Bushes. Rocks. A sharp cliff face jutting away on the horizon. Even in the darkness, he knew their silhouettes. He knew _this place_! This was—!

Lightning flashed again, this time igniting the entire lawn around the bewildered sorcerer. From somewhere in the distance, a high-pitched scream pierced the night. A scream of pain! Of agony! The flash of lightning shot out across the skies again, raining down upon the landscape. The terrible sound of something heavy striking the ground resounded in the distance. Something like a body. Someone was injured!

Who was it? Yue? Cerberus? This mysterious young girl he had yet to meet? The scream was so tortured and so excruciating that he could not tell the difference! Before Clow could even so much as launch to his feet again, a second scream pierced the night. A voice rife with pain and sorrow! It tore at the heart as well as the ears! And this time, he _did_ recognize the voice of its owner!

Terribly, woefully, _heart-wrenchingly_, he recognized that voice!

But someone else was shouting now too. A deep, hoarse voice, shrieking to the night in fear—in _grief! _A voice shouting the words that Clow himself so wanted to screech to the treetops!

"**Yue!" **

The voice resounded down from a distant rooftop. _His_ voice! Clow's own voice!

"**Yue, NO! **

"**YUE!"**

The world around him was spinning and spiraling out of control! Wind, water, lightning! Blood, sweat and tears! He seemed to me swimming in all of it at once! He had seen it! Oh, _god, _he had seen it! There was no other conclusion! Pain and sorrow consumed all of the magician's consciousness. No. It wasn't supposed to end like this… no. The valley… what of that beautiful valley?

But there was another voice calling him now. Distant, faint. It was calling his name…

"…_up!"_

If only he could go! If only he knew where—! But his mind was awhirl with agony—with sorrow! Such a terrible thing! Such a terrible thing had just happened! The body on the ground! The screams, the shouts!

"—_ke up! Clow, … up!"_

And it was his fault! All his fault! He should have _known_! He should never have assumed—! He could have stopped this! The pain! The agony! The valley! That beautiful valley!

"_Damn it, _Clow! **WAKE UP**!"

…

…

…

Clow Reed's eyes snapped open like an arrow off a bow string. Panting and gasping for breath, he glanced about furiously—trying to convince himself of what he was seeing. A familiar scene met his gaze: Familiar bed sheets covered his sweat-laden body; a familiar side table stood beside him, cards upon them glistening in the half-light; familiar red tapestries hung on the ivy-covered window behind him.

This was _his_ room. His bedroom. At the manor. He was safely back at the manor. But how he had come to be here—!

"Are you all right?" came a soft, husky voice from his side.

Clow nearly leapt out of his skin again. Whipping around immediately to confront his attacker, he suddenly came face to face with a pair of

concerned

_violet_

eyes.

Clow blinked several times, as if not quite believing his eyes. "Y-Yue?" he muttered softly, voice trembling.

The young mage was half kneeling, half standing at his bedside and looking terribly disheveled. He was still in his day clothes, though he had torn down to his shirt and breeches. His other vestments had been tossed over his shoulder, but they seemed on the verge of falling now. His collar was completely unfastened and terribly askew; pale, exposed flesh sparkled in the moonlight. His long silvery hair was half undone and flying wildly all about his face. A lantern, abandoned beside him on the floor lent the room its only source of supplementary light. His entire form seemed curiously tense and poised at the ready. Arms very near to Clow's bedside suggested they might have only just let go of his master a moment before.

"Sorry," the boy whispered lowly, limbs relaxing, "I didn't mean to wake you so suddenly. You just looked like you were having quite a nightmare…"

His voice trailed off, but Clow was only half paying attention. The strange images from his dream were still whizzing about in his head like a swarm of angry bees. He could feel his tired eyes beginning to burn with stress and saltwater. He didn't know what to say…

"Clow?" the mage muttered again, voice rising with concern. He knelt lower to the floor, as if trying to get a better angle on his companion's face. His eyes were wide and sparkling with worry.

What exactly must he have done in his sleep, the wizard wondered to himself. If he had somehow drawn Yue here—Yue who had clearly shaken him violently awake! What must he have been doing? Shrieking perhaps, like his dream self? Or perhaps sobbing like a madman…

"Come here…" The wizard whispered thickly, eyelids now heavy and strained to hold back the cascade, "Please come up here…"

Without a thought, Yue obliged. Carefully, he steadied the lantern at his feet and lay down his remaining cargo beside it. Quietly and gracefully as a woodland doe, he slipped up beside his master on the bed and settled himself timidly beside him. He was still scrutinizing his companion carefully—as if he might explode any second. Clow felt the burning at the corners of his eyes grow more fervent until he could scarcely control it anymore. He couldn't hold back for much longer, he knew that. Squinting through a watery wall, he found his way to a pair of twinkling violet irises. They were staring down at him with such concern and such compassion as Clow swore he had never seen. It was too much. It was all just simply _too much! _His limbs twitched, as if they would have liked nothing more than to lunged at the boy—to hold him in their embrace and make _certain_ that he was really here! That this too was not all a dream, and that horrible storm the reality! But through great pains, Clow forced himself to keep his composure.

"What're you doing out here, Yue?" he asked quietly, "It must be very late…"

For a moment, the mage said nothing. Clow could feel the boy's eyes upon him, burning, it seemed, straight past his mottled complexion and lanky hair. He might've believed that the child was staring all the way through to his soul. The sorcerer bit his lip, terrified any moment now that Yue would cut to the heart of the problem. There was simply no escaping it… Not when he could scarcely hold back all these pent-up anxieties! I Any second now, he would have to relive that terrible nightmare! He wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that. He wasn't entirely sure he even wanted to _think_ about his dreams, let alone relay them to someone else.

But to his surprise, Yue sighed.

"I was in the library," he whispered—far more kindly than his surprised master had expected! "Up late reading. I was on my way to bed when I heard the sounds of you…writhing around…from the stairs."

"You could hear me from the stairs?" Clow choked, voice cracking with emotion. Did that mean he _was_ screaming, crying like a helpless infant, then? Did that mean he really _was_ making a weak, cowardly fool of himself for all the household to see?

"The house is quiet at night," Yue murmured softly, reassuringly—as if he could read the very thoughts buzzing within his master's mind. "You would be amazed how well sound carries…to those who are listening."

"That's nice to know," Clow coughed thickly, fat tears rebelliously squeezing from his eyes. His words were broken by a heavy sob. "Oh, _god_, Yue!" he wailed. And without so much a as warning, he threw his arms around the surprised mage and drew him into a tight, desperate hug.

"C-clow!" The boy stammered. Clow couldn't see his face, he was squeezing him so tightly—as if afraid to let go! But he could tell from the tone of his voice that the child was both slightly startled and highly concerned. But there was not a damned thing he could do about it. His body refused to let go!

Simply unable to contain himself any longer, the elder magician felt a vicious heat rise up to his face; the tears he had been holding back burst forth like a breaking dam. And he wept—wept like an infant, wept like the pathetic figure in his dream was weeping! And he could feel Yue trembling beneath him—with fear perhaps: fear for the sanity of his master; or perhaps uncertainty: uncertainty of what on Earth he should do with this crying wreck. But he simply could not make himself let go. No, he could not stop his tears—nor his arms, which were squeezing Yue Reed so tightly! Not until he was certain that he was here this time, and that this beautiful scene wasn't going to fade away again! Fade away into that nightmarish—that _horrible_—! He sobbed even until Yue's thin shirt was soaked completely transparent with his tears. And he clung to the mage for dear life—as if frightened the boy would vanish again if he let go. Like in the dream! Like in his terrible nightmare! No, he would not let go until he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that the fragile creature he was holding was real, flesh and blood!

"Clow," the child whispered. His tone was much softer now than it had been before—no longer surprised or frightened. His control was so profound that Clow even paused in his weeping. "Clow," he whispered again, "It's all right. It's over now, it was a dream. I promise." His voice was so velvety and soothing that the sorcerer could not help but feel his death-grip slacken. His arms slowly unwound from around the boy and he collapsed limply back onto the bed.

He kept his face downcast, letting his hair hide him from view. Lamely, he toyed at the sheets with his finger. "…Are you entirely certain of that, Yue?" he muttered quietly, not looking up.

Through the cascade of dark hair, he watched the boy's brow furrow—with concern or confusion he couldn't entirely be certain. The truth was likely somewhere between the two. "Clow…" he murmured slowly, "It was all just a nightmare. Everything is fine now…"

But as his eyes fell upon his master, the mage's voice faded away. He sighed, absentmindedly tousling his hair. It was as if he too realized the terrible truth that was weighing upon his elder's psyche.

"It wasn't just a nightmare, Yue," the wizard mumbled bleakly to his bed sheets, tracing the creases and folds ever more fervently. "It was a vision… of the future. A gift you are so very fortunate to be without…"

The younger sighed again, this time disappearing beneath his own hair for several seconds so that his face was unreadable. "I know," he murmured darkly. "I'm familiar with the symptoms…"

Clow lifted his head, wide eyes fixed upon the sorrowful creature in front of him. Slowly, Yue met his gaze, amethyst irises burning like fire. "Of course…" the wizard breathed. With one hand, he gently reached up and tousled his companion's hair, pulling it back on the right-hand side. Reverent fingers traced the path of a faint, white scar at his hairline. "How could I have forgotten?" he whispered, tone heavy, "You've seen the future before too, haven't you?"

Yue's light touch graced the back of his hand, and wordlessly he lowered it from the edge of his scalp. "Addle my brains enough…" he hissed with mild displeasure. But he quickly, shook the feeling off. He took the fallen hand in his lap and laced the numb, tan fingers in with his own. "What did you see, Clow?" he asked gently, violet eyes meeting blue. There was no deception behind those eyes—no cunning—nothing but honest concern. Though the mage's gaze was steady, his fingertips were still exploring—caressing Clow's flesh. (The wizard felt a violent shiver run down his spine.) Slowly, he raised their entwined clasp, and lovingly he cradled his master's hand against his breast. "Please tell me…" he said softly, eyes alight.

Clow's fingers twitched violently beneath Yue's grasp, but the boy did not let go. His elder sighed, old emotion rushing back into his face as images of his nightmares rushed across his mind.

"I…" he muttered, voice beginning to quaver now like an erupting volcano, "I think I…I think I saw you—!" but he simply could not bring himself to say it. Could not bring himself to _think_ it! His mind would simply not even form the idea, let alone the words! "I saw a storm," he finished lamely, "a terrible one…"

"'A storm'…" Yue repeated quietly, biting his lip. Clow's head snapped up immediately, peering at the boy with a tearful curiosity. That expression… that strange expression on his child's face… it was almost as if—!

Clow felt an icy fist suddenly plunge into his stomach. A chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room shot down his spine. "You already knew," he whispered darkly, "You already knew about the storm…"

Yue bowed his head as if ashamed. His fingers danced restlessly against Clow's own. "Yes," he whispered gravely, "we have sensed something coming for some time now…"

"'We'?" Clow pressed, brow furrowing.

"Mirror and I," Yue replied easily, "She's been… keeping me company now and again. On the nights I venture out of the library, at least…I haven't seen her _this_ evening."

Clow nodded weakly, not entirely certain what to say. Indeed, his voice seemed to be failing him just this moment. "Yue," he mumbled after a long pause, "what do you think is coming?"

Yue paused for a moment and closed his eyes. He clasped Clow's hand ever tighter to his breast and took a deep, slow breath as if to calm himself. So close were they now that the wizard could feel ebb and flow move silently within him. A certain air of serenity seemed to radiate out of the mage—as if he was a peaceful island amid a stormy sea. Like a rush of wintry breeze, his cool, pulsing aura washed over the pair of them. It reached outward into the night—a circlet of loving arms ready to embrace the evening.

"There's magic in the air," the lunar sorcerer spoke softly, "stronger and denser than it ever has been before…"

Closing his eyes, Clow let his own dark power rush out to feel the world around them. Unconsciously he leaned in to the boy beside him, his head nearly resting against his companion's shoulder. "Yes," he murmured, "I feel it too. It's like the dawn before a card is sealed, but a thousand times more powerful… more terrible…"

"It's getting closer to us now," Yue breathed, his frame tensing slightly, "It's nearly upon us…!"

"No…" Clow uttered softly. Releasing the boy's hand, he forced himself to sit up straight, the trance broken. His magical senses retracted back to him, leaving the wizard feeling quite small and powerless in the universe again. He was painfully aware of his own mortality all of a sudden. "No, it is _already_ upon us."

As if to punctuate his statement, a clap of thunder rolled up over the hills. Both Clow and Yue startled at the sound and whirled around on the sheets so as to face the window. Staring out at the night, the pair of them could just make out flashes of lightning igniting the horizon, a dark void of clouds where stars should have been. An icy chill seemed to reach them straight through the window pane. Clow whimpered faintly and collapsed back onto the bed, eyes downtrodden.

"Clow..." Yue whispered softly, also pulling away from view. "Clow, what is it?"

But the wizard made no answer. He _could_ not make answer! His lips simply would not form the words to explain: to explain what he had seen in his dream. To explain why he feared the storm so!

The light touch of a pair of long-fingered hands graced his shoulders. "Whatever is coming," Yue's gentle voice murmured, "you can face it, Clow." Soft, strong arms laced their way around his sides. "If this is something to do with the cards, then you'll seal them away just as you've always done."

Clow sighed, but did not yet give himself into Yue's embrace. Absentmindedly he reached up and stroked the arms that coiled around him, feeling through sleeve to the tender flesh beneath. "I am afraid… this will not be like the other times, Yue," he uttered gravely. "I fear that this time will be far more difficult than anything we have ever faced before."

He felt the mage stiffen behind him but the boy did not let go. Sighing, he rested his head against the back of Clow's neck. "What makes you say that?" he mumbled, nuzzling his face against the soft fabric of his master's nightshirt. "Clow, please tell me what's going on. Stop keeping it all inside you, to yourself. It'll tear you apart…"

Unable to restrain himself, Clow let out a tiny moan from the back of his throat—almost a purr of pleasure. He wove his hands the rest of the way up Yue's arms, snaking them around the pair of them until he could caress the boy's sides. "You're right, of course," he said softly, twisting so that he could better see his little angel, "You're always right…"

He was aware of Yue taking a deep, heavy breath behind him as if breathing in his scents. His arms briefly hugged the wizard tighter, drawing the pair of them so close that they all but spooned each other. Then, he felt the boy release, one hand sliding enticingly down his thigh, the other twisting its way into his own. Shifting like a snake in the sand, Yue glided around so that his head was resting on Clow's shoulder. Clow shivered, but not with chill. A sensation not unlike an electric shock was making its way up his body from someplace well below his beltline. He'd like to have said it started at his toes, as the poets often said, but he knew better…The mage enshrouded around him continued to slink and slide, the warmth of his body gently caressing against Clow's own trembling flesh like a series of kisses. They were so near now that scarcely a morsel of air could have fit between them. And the wizard found himself terribly aware of the boy atop him. He felt every muscle twitch as the child arched ad pressed against him. He felt the rush of cold air each time he opened up a space between them. Every pulse—every breath! And Yue continued to whisper sweet nothings in his ear—every touch of his lips seeming to send a thousand tiny pinpricks into his master's flesh. And Clow sighed—moaned nearly—but with a bitter fierceness, he managed to hold back his deeper cries. It was like swallowing bile.

Yes, he knew this sensation, but he never would have guessed he would find it here—now! This was not Clow's own doing, not this time. Yue was the one running this show…

"I love you," Clow sighed, will of his mind at last giving away to the passions of heart and liver. His tense frame slackened, falling at last into his companion's sweet embrace. He slid down and rested his head upon the mage's breast, his body twisting around to fill the space between them. "Yue, I love you so much. Please say you'll never leave me."

He felt Yue take a deep, heavy breath beneath him. His entire torso swayed with the effort, and Clow along with it. He gasped, as if his throat was suddenly very tight. But a moment later, he regained himself. And with a few more heaving breaths, he seemed to beat back the hot fires rising within him. With control worthy of a man thrice his years, the rigor within the boy's muscles eased. (Or most of them at least, Clow thought to himself as another tingling shock ran up his viscera.) The pair of them sank lowly to the bed, collapsing like a foldable telescope onto the sheets. Serpentine arms laced their way around the wizard once more. Legs parted like scissors beneath him and grasped at Clow with their knees. Before he knew it, the magician found himself drawn ever nearer to his young charge until he completely lay astride him, every one of their limbs entwined. Lovingly, Yue cradled his master's head all the tighter to his breast, chin nuzzling against his hair.

Clow purred again at the sensation, allowing it to encompass his entire being. The young mage was the picture of peace and grace—the peace his companion so needed right now. Or he was for the most part at least. As he bore down and cuddled up to his angel, Clow couldn't help but notice every ebb and flow within the child's flesh. So close were they now that he could feel a powerful pulse—like a second heart—beating against him from somewhere between Yue's tightly-sealed thighs. Clow shuddered as another tidal wave of emotion swept over him, jerking his limbs like a lightning bolt. Suddenly he felt like there was simply no strength left in him. Like a marionette without a puppeteer, he let his limbs go limp and sunk lower and lower against his captive beauty, allowing Yue's ease to wipe away his fears. When he could sink no further, the wizard snuggled back up to Yue's breast, head resting just above the base of his ribs.

The mage continued to breathe deeply, as if working twice as hard to accommodate the weight against his chest. But the pace was still slow, soothing. Eyes softly closed, Clow felt his ribs expand fully with each breath. His back arched each time, lifting the pair of them off the bed. Sinewy pathways running down his abdomen relaxed to accommodate, sending Clow ripping right along with them all the while. The powerful pectoral muscles beneath the wizard's brow stretched taught, reaching around the boy's back and rolling like peaceful tides. Clow, atop them all, began to feel himself being rocked to sleep. If there had been terrors for him on this night, they were quickly being washed away.

And Yue in is ear continued to whispered sweet words of comfort: "I'm here. Don't worry. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

A long time passed. Maybe it had been minutes, maybe an hour. To Clow, it felt like half a lifetime. All the while, Yue did not let him go. Indeed, with affection that would outshine Gaia herself, he held his elder close. Clow felt safe here—as if neither wind, nor rain, nor even the steel of a sword could cleave them from each other. The wizard nearly felt himself lulled back to sleep…

But he could not quite give in to the impulse—he could not quite pass away into blissful slumber. There was still something weighing heavily on his mind.

"It's a test of some sort," he murmured quietly, still cuddled to Yue's chest. "The thing that's coming, it's a test—I'm sure of it."

Yue stirred slightly beneath him, but did not break their embrace. The wizard expected him to ask why exactly his elder could be so certain, but to Clow's surprise, he did not. "What sort of test?" he asked softly, ruffling his master's hair.

Clow was silent for a moment, thinking—trying to put to words what his magical senses told him to be true. "I think it's meant to try me," he said at last, "as if to test my worthiness…"

"'Worthiness'?" Yue inquired. He shifted slightly so that he could cast a quizzical look into his companion's peripheral. "Worthiness to do what?"

"To be master of the cards," Clow sighed, "to have you and Cerberus here, by my side…"

Yue tensed uncomfortably beneath him. The sorcerer laying astride him felt his muscles begin to tense afresh. "But you haven't even _sealed_ all the cards!" he hissed, chest heaving. "How can the universe possibly intend to 'test your worthiness' if you have not even yet completed the task?"

"I think," his companion replied, "that the last of the cards are _in_ the storm…"

Yue fell silent immediately, and his hand stroking Clow's hair froze abruptly. "_In_ the storm…?" he echoed quietly.

Clow let out a long, heavy breath. "Yes," he answered gravely, "Can't you feel it? It's there in those clouds: magic, power. It's the same presence I sense just before I seal away a new card—but this time, considerably stronger.

"My dreams have been telling me all this year that something is coming," he continued, just as darkly, "That some kind of end is nearing—the end of an era, and perhaps the dawn of a new one. And whatever it is, it is coming before summer's end. June is already over, Yue. It won't be long until autumn is upon us…"

"But _why_?" Yue sighed restlessly, collapsing with exhaustion back against the sheets. Absentmindedly he resumed stroking Clow's hair. "Why would cards fight you when they have always been happy to just be found and sealed up until now? I can't understand it."

"You forget just what we're dealing with here," Clow uttered with an ironic chuckle. As if to prove his master's point, Yue raised a pale eyebrow, clearly confused about all this. His elder pressed on:

"These cards: they aren't' just little enchanted pieces of paper. No, these cards represent something much more than that…

"When a sorcerer wants to cast a spell to start a fire, for instance," he offered lightly, "he does so by calling upon the spirit—the essence of flame itself. There was once a great philosopher called Plato who claimed that all of the physical things we experience in this world are but mere shadows, as those a fire would cast on a cave wall. He believed that all these things—a tock, the wind, a tree—were but reflections of a higher order of existence. Earthness itself, windness itself, woodness itself. And he believes that these forms exists outside out physical world in a higher plane of their own."

"And you think that the spirit—the essence—of fire or water that sorcerers call upon to do magic," Yue started slowly. "You believe that they are these self-same platonic forms?"

Clow bit his lip. "Not quite," he admitted, "I think Plato was a bit off in his theory, but I _do_ believe he touched on something. I think if anything like Plato's forms exists in the universe, then they exist as these spirits of nature upon which magicians have called for millennia. And, as you know…"

"It is those essential spirits of nature that you have been sealing into the cards," Yue finished for him with just a twinge of impatience. "Yes, yes. I know."

"And I believe," Clow added, "that the combination of all these spirits makes everything that e have in the world around us—the very mechanism of creation itself. So you can see why I imagine the universe will not want to relinquish such power to a mere mortal man like me. At least not any too lightly. And that on _top_ of the fact that I have you and Cerberus as well—!"

"What do we have to do with any of it?" Yue asked abruptly, cutting across whatever exasperated statement Clow had intended to say next. The sorcerer blinked. If he didn't know better, he would have called the child's tone harsh. The hand caressing his hair came to a halt yet again.

"You really don't know?" Clow breathed in wonder, peeking up at the boy.

Yue let out a heavy sigh. Clow, still lying so closely atop his young charge, rose and fell like a ship on a rippling sea. He felt the mage tense beneath him. When the child spoke again, his voice was markedly strained, as if with great unease—frustration perhaps. "If this is about that—that _deity_ nonsense Mirror is always going on about, then—!"

"Yes," Clow interrupted calmly, his eyes, dark and serious, finding their way into Yue's own. "It is."

Yue let out the breath he had been holding but said nothing, After a few moments more of fuming, his rigor broke and his breathing fell into a deep, regular rhythm once more. Relaxing again himself, Clow cuddled back down against the mage's breast: listening, _feeling_ as an agitated body began to find peace once again. It was remarkable how quickly the young blond could regain control of himself. Yue's arms wrapped around his master again, and he nuzzled his cheek lovingly against the wizard's wild, ebony locks.

"I'm sorry, Yue," Clow murmured, "But it is true that many of the ancient peoples of the world—and even some in our modern day—have called you a god. Because of the power they sense in you, and in your brother…"

He felt Yue's grip around him tighten, but he said nothing more on the matter. Clow closed his eyes, allowing himself to get lost in his angel's embrace—to get back to that lovely place they had been before, while he had been sobbing. "To be dominant over the cards…" he whispered, "that means you have to be something even greater—even more powerful, more _primal to the universe_ than are the cards themselves. And that is probably another reason I must be tested," he finished dismally. "To see if I am worth of _this_." He hugged his precious beauty tighter as he uttered the last, relishing in the peace of his presence—of being so near to his sweet little angel.

Softly. Yue kissed his forehead and held him closer in return. "You already are," he cooed lovingly, "you already _are_ worthy. But whatever does all of this have to do with your dreams?"

Clow let out his longest and dearest sigh yet of the evening. How many months had he kept all this secret? How long now had he held all his visions deep inside him, only consorting with Cerberus on occasion? He had honestly lost count of the days, the weeks, perhaps even the years since it had begun. A part of him—a part buried deep within the darkest corner of his heard, bid him to keep it quiet even now. But the rest of his being was swiftly stomping that voice into nothingness. Here, in the comfort of Yue's embrace, he at last felt it was safe to tell all. To free himself of this awful burden.

"Well," he began hesitantly, "The visions really all started just after Cerberus was born—back when I still thought I could put off _your_ birth for a few months…"

And slowly but surely, Clow Reed began to reveal everything that had led them up to this point. He explained the visions he had had as a young man back in China: the visions which had helped to first give him the idea of applying his new brand of magic as he had done. The thing that had first inspired him to embrace his bastard, hybrid magic for good. He explained of his dreams first regarding Cerberus, and then Yue prior to each of their births. He explained the flurry of visions that had appeared more recently. Of cherry blossoms and pink and the young girl who occasionally danced in and out of them. Of dark stormy nights on the lawn, and of cryptic warnings that something terrible was quite near on the horizon.

"And tonight," he said at last, exhaustion from all the speaking he had done evident in his wavering, fading tone of voice. "Tonight, I finally saw something a bit more specific…" Yue stroked his hair soothingly, bidding his companion speak the rest of the tale. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Clow continued:

"We were together in the start of it," he said somewhat sheepishly. There was no need to reveal _all_ of the intimate details. (Conveniently, he had also neglected to mention the dream in which Clow, fully succumbed to his dark side, had raped and murdered the young mage.) "You and I, we were… enjoying each other's company…

"And then we weren't. You were simply gone and we were in a completely new place."

"Do you know where it was?" Yue offered gently.

Clow nuzzled ever closer to the boy, swallowing hard before he made his reply. "Yes," he murmured, "we were out on the manor lawn, at night.

"It was stormy," he continued, voice suddenly grave, "and impossible to see properly. I—my dream self—was standing on one of the rooftops. And—and there was a flash of lightning, and—!" His voice cut off abruptly. Turning inward to his angel's welcoming arms, he stifled another sob. But he had to tell this time! He had to get it off his chest! Voice cracking and faltering, he forced himself on: "And I heard a scream—an awful scream! Someone shrieking in pain!"

_Maybe… if Yue knew…_

"Who was it?" the mage encouraged, holding his sniveling, trembling companion even tighter than before.

…_he could stop it._

"I wasn't sure at first," Clow choked. "It was just so shrill! It was just in so much pain! But then I heard a second cry—and I recognized it this time…"

"Who—?"

"It was you, Yue," Clow exclaimed at last, twisting around so that his tearful azure eyes were staring straight up at the mage's startled violet. "It was you screaming, I'm sure of it!"

Yue immediately fell silent and stiff. He made no move at all as Clow settled himself back down into his arms and snuggled up against him. His elder hadn't the faintest idea what to say to the boy. What _could_ he say? There was nothing to do but finish his cryptic tale, and pray that might be enough… enough to prevent his nightmare from becoming reality. Fighting back the urge to cry—to fall into sobbing disarray once more—he delivered his last line:

"And, before everything faded away… I heard a body hit the ground. And my dream self… I heard him shouting your name."

A silence descended between the pair. For a time, Clow Reed felt certain that this would be the end of their evening together. What more could be said from here? Yue had already fallen mute from all this revelation, and Clow could scarcely blame him. Hastily, the wizard made to sit up straight. He doubted that the pleasantness of the boy's presence here—his comforting caress—would return. The hot, heavy passion that had engulfed them. The blessed moment of intimacy and love… no, he with his dramatic explanations—with his _horrible_ revelations!—he had killed it now…

But a moment later, he was pleasantly surprised. A pair of strong, slender arms, which had seemed stiff and lifeless mere seconds before, reached up and grabbed the sorcerer around the middle. With a yelp, Clow found himself abruptly pulled back down to the bed, and into a tight, compassionate hug.

"You're an idiot," a soft, husky voice whispered in his ear.

"But—but I don't—!" the sorcerer stammered. But Yue merely rested a single finger to his lips, silencing his ravings instantly.

"Didn't I tell you?" the mage muttered quietly, arms and legs slinking back around his captive prey. "I'm staying right here, and there isn't a force on heaven or earth that will take me away from you."

Clow blinked up at the young man, as if not quite believing. He opened his mouth to say something in reply, but at that precise moment, a second clap of thunder boomed above them—this time shaking the walls with its nearness.

A tiny squeal sounded from somewhere out in the hallway beyond, and a moment later, a frazzled, petrified-looking lion bounded over the threshold.

"Cerberus!" Clow yelped in surprise, reflexively trying to pull away from Yue, but they were far too intertwined. "We—we weren't doing anything," he rambled, flushing a brilliant shade of red, "I swear! He—Yue was just—just trying to comfort me about my nightmare—I—!"

"Save it," the beast sighed, at last catching his breath and shutting the door behind him. "I know you guys weren't doing nothing(—Yue's still got his pants on, for one thing" he sniggered. Yue instantly flushed a startling shade of vermillion.) "and right now I don't particularly care if you were. I had nightmares too…"

"What were yours about?" Yue asked with mild exasperation as he and Clow cleared a space for Cerberus on the bed.

The leonine sorcerer paused for a moment as he settled himself at his housemates' feet, as if mulling the whole thing over in his mind. At last, he shrugged. "Oh, nothing…" he murmured. Curling up to his brother and his master both, he laid down to sleep. Taking one last look at each other, the humans followed his lead.

Resting himself contently back in Yue's embrace, Clow smiled. Maybe it was unwise to think thusly, but lying where he was right now—between his two precious sons, between the Sun and the Moon—he almost trusted Yue's words: that everything would be all right. As if to contradict him, another low clap of thunder rolled around in the distance. But for the night at least, Clow thought to himself, this was enough. He cuddled back up to his little angel and rested his head back against the boy's breast. For now at least, they could have peace: the calm before the storm.

And the sky outside swirled with the primal forces of nature. And here beside him, he had forces even more primal than that. He felt his eyes growing heavy, lids beginning to slowly slide closed and engulf him in blissful darkness. Sighing, he rolled himself so closely against Yue's chest that he drowned out any noises of the storm taunting him in the distance. His beautiful primal boys. His lovely native sons. And it was to the sound, the slow beat of a tribal drum, that he finally fell asleep.

_AN: Well, that didn't turn out quite the way I had expected. This chapter was originally meant to be much longer. It was meant to cover the events of a whole second day right up into the beginning of the storm… unfortunately, it was already over 20,000 words and I knew I had more to go—a lot more. So, I decided instead of a giant 30,000 word monster chapter, I would have two short ones. The next section is almost half done. But you know what would really accelerate the writing process? Reviews. Lots of them. :3 There are only a few people who review regularly (or, you know, __**ever**__), but the cool thing about story traffic checkers on this site is that I can __**see**__ that there are many more people reading this fic. Yes, all you elusive readers: __I can see you__. :D Please review. It really does give me the inspiration to keep going and will make me turn out chapters faster._

_I actually had a really hard time with this chapter because of all the CxY scenes in it. Those who are familiar with me outside of this story will know that CxY is certainly not my usual cup of tea. It's certainly not what I'm used to writing. Compared to my usual favorite CCS pairing, it was really difficult because, while one of the characters is the same, the dynamics involved are __**100%**__ different. But it's necessary for a past-fic like this, so I did my best. Please let me know if it's absolutely horrible. :/ _

_A few notes: Knowledge of astrology. Astrology was still considered a science in the 1680s. In fact, it was only just beginning to become distinct from astronomy, and the two were highly interchangeable. Astrology played a very important part in most traditional western medicine. While Dr Hawkins is often depicted as being a bit above some of these more ridiculous practices (with good reason, I swear), he still would have had to study and be well-versed in astrology. _

_I got pretty anatomical in parts of the CxY sections. If anyone is curious, the "faint shadow … fluttering against [Yue's] flesh" would have actually have been the apex of his heart, which is visible through the skin in many thin young men who have not fully fleshed out in their adult musculature yet. :P Also, the reason his pectorals were shifting so much while Clow was laying on him was not artistic license. His pectoral muscles would be more extensive than in most people and would reach from his breastbone to his wings. They would automatically contract when he breathes in to expand his ribcage up and out. That is also why he has complained before about having to keep his wing beats in time with his breathing (or he would end up decreasing the size of his chest cavity while in lower-oxygen atmospheres above the ground). Please bear in mind I am a pre-med student. Sometimes it shows. XP I can't help it. _

_Platonic forms and shadows on a cave wall. The platonic forms are a real theory of Plato's—his central theory in fact. The 'shadows on a cave wall' is a reference to his famous allegory of the cave, which he used to explain his theory of the forms. _

_Please read and review! Please? Next chapter soon, and updates will be posted as always on my profile. I estimate now that there will be at least two more chapters to the end of Arc I after this next one, bringing the total up to 21. _


	20. Before

**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**

_**Part Four: Card Games**_

**Chapter 12, Before**

The next morning, the clouds on the horizon had rolled in and completely covered the little village of Lightwater.

The residents of town had almost not noticed the rising day at all. For, by the time dawn had arrived, the looming thunderheads had already snuffed out the sun. A low, rumbling grumble echoed throughout the hilltops. The skies in their heavens roared like a hibernating bear, just beginning to wake from its slumber. Off in the distance, an even louder clap of thunder answered the mating call. Soon the pair of beasts would be here, raining down their fury. The sky was so dark that the day looked more like night. But if this was eventide upon them now, then the pitch-black clouds on the horizon must have been something else entirely. It might well have been the smoky breath of Satan himself.

At around noontime, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

A pair of solemn figures stood at the steps up to Reed Manor, watching the storm be ushered in.

The first of them was rather short and thin, but if the strained seams about his vestments were any indicator, then he was certainly not of a scholar's build. Leaning against a column, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, he gave off a presence of absolute readiness. Despite his small frame, it was clear that the physique of a warrior hid beneath his noble decoration. He was staring out at the gales with scrutiny, strikingly violet eyes shining in the gloom. So dark was the air around him that the young man's stark-white hair and skin glowed like an angel. Or, perhaps, if some old legends be true, like the angel of _death_.

The second figure was of a completely different nature entirely. Unlike his companion, he was large and low to the ground. He was more beast, it seemed, than man. At first glance, an onlooker might have mistaken him for a hunting dog—a particularly _enormous_ hunting dog. But it was clear for anyone closely observing the creature that he was truly nothing of the sort. Fur of a brilliant orange sparkled out into the grey abyss like a burning fire. Golden cat-like eyes cut through the air like a knife. He was about the size of a wild buck—perhaps even a small bear!—and long, muscular arms flanked his slender feline body. His face was leonine, but he bore no mane. Indeed, he seemed more akin to the mighty cave lions that flanked the walls of local caverns than he did the great beasts of Africa.

Like silent sentinels, the odd pair stood flanking the door to their manor-house. Their figures, half-obscured by mist and fog and haze, appeared as two brilliant balls of light against the growing darkness. Silver and gold. Virgin and charioteer. Moon and Sun.

A vicious wind kicked up and hurtled across the lawn. It wrenched leaves from their branches and shot them like arrowheads into the distance. Another clap of thunder rolled overhead, louder than it had been before. Nearer…

The more human of the two men recoiled, ducking away from the gales. They caught him by the hair and threatened to undo his long plait with their strength. Though clearly trying his best to keep his composure, the lion at the boy's side saw him shiver.

"You should go back inside," the little beast urged his companion. His high, cracking voice was hardly fitting to his majestic appearance. "Don't worry," he added when his brother still had not moved, "I'll watch for him."

"Always fussing over me," the silvery boy hissed in reply. He forced himself back into a casual leaning position as if in defiance. His arms crossed even tighter across his chest. "First Mirror, then Clow, now you. Why is It everyone is so _especially_ concerned with my well-being?"

Not waiting for a response, he cast a scrutinizing glance down at his sibling. Despite his brave statements, Cerberus Reed was clearly bunkered down against the weather as well. His bright orange fur was standing completely on end. Every muscle up and down his mighty body was tense and trembling in the stormy chill. He was huddled into such a tight ball against the wind and rain that Yue momentarily fanaticized about rolling him down the steps.

"Cerberus," the young blond sighed, "I think _you're_ the one who should go inside. I rather like the cold—I'm well in my element out here. But you, on the other hand…"

"Tempting offer," Cerberus grunted back, sucking his limbs in even closer to his body. "But I think I'll wait up for him too."

Yue rolled his eyes but made no reply. In the skies above them, a bolt of lightning flashed, and a clap of thunder shook the ground all around. As the rain began to pelt down harder and faster, the two boys drew nearer under the overhang…

The overhang on which carefully carved words mocked the furious tempest:

'_Magia est Immortalis'_

…

Down in Lightwater proper, the entire village was scurrying about, trying to prepare for the storm. Everyone in all of western Surrey had been caught completely off-guard by this strange front from the north. Though the weather had been far from normal all month, this outright _monsoon_ had been the most unexpected by far. And also, everyone silently agreed, the most frightening.

Curiously, there and been no reports from the other counties of anything but lovely summer weather…

The commotion about town had begun well before a single drop of rain had struck the Earth. Old Tom Whithers, the local barman, had begun his morning rather early when he had come down his pub stairs to nurse a terrible hangover. He had found his headache nearly doubled when he peered through his dusty windows to see grey, raging skies beyond.

Aiden McKinley, the somewhat underappreciated local cabby, had awoken at the crack of dawn to find that there was no dawn at all! Preaching to the sky of curses and doom, he prepared his horses and took the first out-of-town job he and his wife could find.

Eustace Smithley, a grubby little man who usually kept the village lampposts lit, arose to find he was going to work a bit early today.

Elizabeth Rae, the town charlatan, stepped outside her house to find that her pretty, painted-up face wasn't likely to trap a single soul—for the streets of Lightwater were barren.

By the time midday had fallen, the whole of the valley was scurrying about boarding up windows and gathering last-minute supplies. The look of the skies spoke of hell itself, and the residents were preparing for nothing short of judgment day.

By the time the Reed boys' thunder and lightning was resounding over the rooftops, all but the last stragglers had hidden away to pray for their salvation.

Standing alone on a grey and deserted street, a cloaked figure drew down his hood. He stared up at the heavens, watching the flashed of light and counting the seconds that followed. There was scarcely time worth counting. The figure shivered and drew his garment tighter about his shoulders. His glasses shone opaque as the lightning lit up the void.

Taking firm hand of his basket of precious purchases, the shadowy man drew up his hood again and dashed out into the rain. There was one last sop he had to make this afternoon. And judging by the looks of the sky, he was already running very, very late.

He dashed out across Lightwater square, doubled over as if hiding from the raindrops. But there would be no hiding, no escaping. Not for Clow Reed. His long, black cloak was becoming soaked already with water, but still the man dashed on. The soaked ends of the fabric lashed at his ankles. But he had to run on! He had to make it to one more shop before it was too late. Though he was quickly running out of time…But no! He _had_ to make it! He _had_ to! If there was any way to stop the events of his nightmare unfolding, then he was obligated to try!

As he rounded a bend, the sorcerer came to an abrupt halt. He had reached his destination.

The shack was nothing particularly special. It was old, that was certain! Rough, faded planks that made up the porch and the walls spoke of years—perhaps even decades of weathering. The overall simple, unconcerned appearance of the structure might have suggested that it was both build and inhabited by a sad old widower. Clow Reed happened to know that both of these statements were true—or had been true at least, in some time or another. But there was something else about this place that he knew, and it too showed in the façade.

Though the boards were ancient and beaten, their rough, jagged edges had been painstakingly evened out. Though the porch had been built by a sad, widowed doctor, it bore the handiwork of an eager young bachelor in its new railing. Windows that had once been gloomily peered through by generations of lonely men now bore cheerful, blue shudders. Many things about the place spoke of a new life in this establishment that was quite different than those that had come before it. This was most especially evident in the sign outside, o which its owners name was broadcast in crisp, black letters.

Clow hesitated only for a moment. This was enemy territory and he was well aware of it. Though he knew the shopkeeper to be too polite to bar him entry, the magician still suspected that he had not been welcome here for a long time

He strode up the steps to the porch and faced the first of two wooden doors that led into the chambers beyond. Tentatively, he knocked upon the polished surface, but received no answer. Brow furrowing, Clow stooped and peered in through each of the windows. The spaces inside were as dark and as quiet as the grave.

That was all rather strange, the wizard thought to himself. He knew the owner had not moved, and he had thought almost everyone would have been off the streets by now…

A conflicted mix of emotions played about Clow's face as he drew away from the panes. On the one hand, he was partially relieved about not having to face the resident of this sad abode. But at the same time… Images from his nightmare flashed afresh in the man's mind…No, he needed those supplies. He needed—!

"Looking for someone?"

Clow nearly jumped out of his skin as a familiar but _certainly_ unexpected voice sounded from directly behind him. The startled sorcerer wheeled around at once. He found himself face to face with a pair of twinkling azure eyes.

Benjamin Hawkins was standing at the edge of the stairs, leaning on the railing. He had his head cocked to one side and was scrutinizing Clow as with a stern curiosity. The magician said nothing for a moment, suddenly rather intimidated into silence now that his task had become reality. The prospect of having to face the good doctor had not felt quite so frightening when it was in his mind alone. But now… Now that the man was _here_! _In the flesh—!_

But even as Hawkins surveyed him, gaze firm and body tense, there was something about his appearance that put Clow at ease. Though still carrying around his usual air of humble gentlemanhood, the doctor was nonetheless looking a bit disheveled. His curly golden locks were broken and tangled in places; he had drawn them into a ponytail in attempt to hide the damage. His flesh appeared far paler than usual and was flecked with a light rim of sweat. Compared to his usual grandeur of dress, he was only wearing half the usual ornamentation. He had no jacket. Atop his breast, he wore only a puff-sleeved shirt and an old golden vest. The cuffs were unfastened and rolled halfway up his arms. He had neither ruff nor ribbon about is throat, and his collar hung half askew. Both his stockings and his breeches were old and plain—simple earth-tones in color. Shoes on his feet were of an extremely worn leather.

Like Clow himself, the sorcerer noticed, he was carrying a basket laden with supplies. And also like Clow, there were prominent dark circles under his eyes. The old wizard couldn't help but feel that they had a certain kinship here, beneath the thundering storm.

As another flash of lightning ignited the sky, Clow finally found his courage. "Yes," he answered at last, "I was actually seeking the services of the apothecary."

Hawkins surveyed the magician a moment longer, expression unreadable. Then, seeming to have made up his mind, the doctor's eyes softened and his stiff musculature slackened. "Well," he sighed, "Then I suppose there is but one around." And with not a word more, he strode easily past Clow. Whipping out his key ring, he unlocked the door, and both men clambered inside.

As Hawkins busied himself with lighting the candles, Clow took a moment to observe his surroundings. He had stayed with the good doctor once before: for two weeks while he had been awaiting his belongings' arrival from China. But in all that time, he could honestly say he had never ventured out here to the apothecary.

The floor and counter were of a darker, more polished wood than was much the rest of the house. Thick magenta curtains covered all but the smallest slit of outside light; even the little pane upon the door bore a small cloth filter. In the soft glow of the candles, it gave the whole shop an appropriate aura of mystery. Glittering bottles, and vials, and instruments almost reminded Clow more of a warlock's potion chamber than a place of modern medicine. More alchemy than chemistry.

When the last candle had been lit, Hawkins set down his basked and slinked his way behind the counter. "So," he asked casually," What is it you need this time, Clow?"

Rather than looking the doctor in the eye, Clow let his gaze droop to the floor. He twiddled his thumbs nervously. "I am anticipating an injury," he said quietly. "A rather serious one. And so…I would like to be prepared…" his voice trailed off until it disappeared beneath the sounds of the gently crackling wicks.

Hawkins sighed. "I suppose this is something to do with you and your magic again? He inquired dismally. Clow only drooped his gaze farther to the floor and did not reply, but his companion seemed to only hear in his silence a guilty confirmation. The doctor sighed again, even more heavily this time. "And I don't suppose you can even tell me what _kind_ of injury it is that you're anticipating" he asked with a touch of exasperation.

Now it was Clow's turn to sigh. Raising a hand to rub away the tension forming in his temples, he at last looked up at his old friend. "I'm afraid I do not know myself," he whispered. "All I have seen is that this storm…that it is coming for me. I have to stop it, Hawkins," he said more gravely, voice crackling. "I'm the only one that can. But in my vision of the fight, I have seen…_someone_…fall under serious injury. I have seen them…collapse…."

"Then could you at least let me know _who_ my patient is? The doctor offered.

"Why does that matter?" Clow snapped back defensively. In his heart of hearts, Clow had a terrible suspicion as to which of his two sons would be so badly wounded tonight. Indeed, he had confessed all those fears to the boy himself the eve prior! But he could not fathom why this reproving chemist would need to pry so.

Hawkins threw his hands down to the counter with surprising force. His magician customer could not keep from starting at the noise. "It matters," the doctor hissed with frustration, "because I would use a far different dosage for a large man like you than I would a small boy like Yue! Unless he's grown considerably in the last two years somehow!"

Clow stared, utterly stunned. He had been expecting Hawkins to regard him disapprovingly—he thought he was asking with disgust at the Reed boys and was going to refuse to treat the again. But the good doctor was merely being clinical Hell, he had even remembered Yue's _name_! And all that despite only having seen the child once! Gloomily, the sorcerer mumbled that it was indeed his younger son who he suspected the victim.

Hawkins nodded, his anger fading away again as quickly as it had swelled up. "All right, then!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "There's not much I can do without knowing the diagnosis, but perhaps I can at least get you a few basic mixtures that should help just about anything."

With a new bounce in his step, the young physician busied himself with grabbing a number of strange vials and ingredients and mixing implements off the shelves. With the motivation of a honey bee, he quickly got to work measuring and weighing, crushing and stirring. All the while, Clow could do little but stare at the man, completely dumbfounded. Why, if he had not known better, he'd have said it was as if no time had passed at all between them! As if this was still 1681 and Clow had never lost the doctor's trust—his friendship! As "Hawkins," he asked tentatively, watching his companion work, "forgive me, but why are you so eager to help us? I would have thought you…"

"That I would what?" Hawkins cut across, glancing up. "Like to see you both hanged? I told you once before, things aren't so simple." Glancing back down, he diligently resumed his work. "There's an innocent life at stake, that's all that matters to me. It wouldn't matter if he was the son of the devil himself." While his companion was still blinking stupidly, he capped his first vial and passed the finished draught across the counter to Clow:

"_Foxglove," he announced. "To strengthen the heart." _

Without a moment's hesitation, he immediately began grinding and mixing on a second concoction. "But I do hope, Clow," the brilliant blond added as he stirred, "that whatever you're planning, it doesn't involve any grand magical light show."

"I can't promise that," the wizard responded seriously. "This storm itself is magical, not natural. It is coming to test me and I must do whatever I can to defeat it. Else, I fear it may well destroy Lightwater."

He expected that his grave confession would get some sort of rise out of the doctor. A gasp in shock. Wide eyes filled with fear. At the very least, he expected his companion to hesitate in his fierce grinding. But to Clow's astonishment, the man only shrugged nonchalantly, gaze not once leaving his mortar and pestle. "I already know the town is doomed," he muttered darkly. "I saw her destroyed: in my dreams last night. I watched her burn—burn for her sins, like Sodom and Gomorrah. I already know about your storm."

Clow was so thrown aghast by this statement that he felt quite literally as if Hawkins had stepped around the counter and smacked him. He opened his mouth to ask how on Earth it was possible for the humble apothecary to know so much, but he was cut off before he could even begin. Hawkins passed another jar across the table, this time a salve.

"_Eucalyptus," he declared, "it open the lungs._

"But let me suggest you something, Clow," the doctor continued as he started on a third compound. "Perhaps you should stop caring to much for a village who certainly did not return the favor."

"What do you mean?" Clow replied in confusion, brow furrowed.

Hawkins sighed for perhaps the thousandth time that evening. "What I mean is that you shouldn't trust these townsfolk, old friend," he answered cryptically. "If these people ever saw you use your magic, they would not care if it was raised to save them. They would not care if it was the only reason they and their children were not drowned in their houses. They would call you witch, not hero, and burn you at the stake before they would ever thank you."

"But…" Clow muttered blankly, "_burning_ is…"

"Illegal," Hawkins cut in with agitation. "Yes, I know." He laid down another finished salve.

"_Peppermint, lavender, and aloe. To help local pain and promote wound-healing."_

Without missing a beat, the doctor began measuring out another liquid concoction. As if there had been no pause in the middle, he continued his previous sentiments: "But frankly, Clow, I don't fancy seeing you hanged, drawn, and quartered either."

Inaudibly, Clow mumbled sheepishly about a sorcerer of his power surely being capable of magical escape from the authorities. For the space of a heartbeat, the young physician's hands froze in their work. A dark, unfocused sort of gaze flickered in his eyes. From the dreamy expression on the man's face, his mind seemed to suddenly be very far away from this little shop—perhaps even Lightwater itself. Clow knew that look—that empty, distant stare. It was the way he felt himself when the remnants of his visions washed across his consciousness… But what it was doing on _Hawkins'_ face—!

Snapping out of his trance, the doctor passed the last of his elixirs across the counter. This one, like the first, was a carefully corked draught.

"_St John's wart," Hawkins announced, "applied locally to stop bleeding. Systemically only if you must._

"And one more thing," he added. For a moment, the good doctor dove out of sight, vanishing beneath the counter. When he reemerged, it was with a pair of curious items in hand. The first was a long roll of bandaging cloth, which he laid beside his various other mixes. The other was a small, glistening container. Opening it, he held the jar aloft for Clow to view. Inside there was a careful measure of glistening white powder. "The concentrated essence of the poppy plant," he uttered seriously.

"Opium?" Clow whispered back, voice crackling with exasperation.

Hawkins silenced him with a single raised finger. "Who said opium?" he cooed quietly, "I certainly didn't say opium. To you, it might as well be magical pixie dust." He gently closed the container and passed it over the counter to Clow. "Those laudanum pills that are so popular right now scarcely contain enough of it to be effective against anything larger than an insect bite. But between you and I, I always keep measured dosages of the pure poppy back here for emergencies. Use it if you need it, but beware of its potency."

Clow nodded slowly, allowing the doctor to settle the discrete jar among the others. "Thank you, Hawkins," he whispered, glancing up to catch the man's eye. "For everything…" Reaching into his basket, he deposited a rather heavy bag of coins upon the counter. Both men knew it was far more than the worth of the materials, but neither said a word. There was more being done in this store than a simple transaction, more being said than a simple product order. The both of them knew it, and knew it well. "You have been a remarkably loyal friend—even when I have shaken your world to its very core. Perhaps," he breathed," in another life…"

"Yes, Hawkins echoed solemnly, "Another life…"

Both bowed their heads, the darkness of the storm suddenly seeming to be as much within the room as without. "Hawkins, please leave Lightwater!" Clow choked, his voice thick with quiet emotion. "Please…before it's too late—!"

"You know I can't do that," the doctor replied gravely. "This town is my home: it's the place where all my family has been born and been buried. It's the place I decided to make my own life in when the last of them was gone. I can't leave her now, in her darkest hour—least of all when people I would call friend are going to risk life and limb to protect her! No, I can't leave her now…"

His voice was so silent as his whispered one last sentiment that the storm outside, and the candles flickering in their stands were nearly louder: "The Lord God told to Abraham that if he found but a single reichous man in all of Sodom, he would spare the city for the sake of that one. I sincerely hope that in this room, he might find two at least."

Grasping hands in a firm shake, the two men gazed into each other's eyes—neither entirely certain if it would be their last look at each other. Clow wished he could say something more—to tell the doctor just how much he appreciated his courage. To suggest they forget the past and mend their broken ties here and now!

But he could not speak it. He could not say a word. The power of darkness was there between them, and he knew not how to cross the void.

Slowly, sadly, Clow broke their contact. Gathering up his precious elixirs, he headed solemnly toward the door—ready to face both the storm and his fate. Though his heart feared him to even ask the question, he turned back and inquired one last thing of his companion.

"Hawkins," he started softly, "What of lightning?"

"Pray it not happen," the doctor replied, most darkly of all. "Lightning is fatal. It burns the body clean through, not that it matters much to the victims. Usually, it stops the heart immediately. If it does not, it steals the breath. You die as on the hangman's noose: either instantly and painlessly, or slowly and suffocating. There is nothing I can do for it."

Nodding, Clow exited into the night.

…

If Clow had believed the weather was bad upon entering Hawkins' practice, it was nothing to the tempest that faced him now as he left it. The sky was so dark that it was nearly black. Instead of an inky void on the horizon, there simply _was_ no horizon anymore! As far as the sorcerer could see in every direction, there was nothing but the same, monotonous gloom. Lightning and thunder were no longer occasional, distant phenomena. Now they crackled overhead like a war in the heavens. Constant. Wear-splitting. It lit up the night in a series of cruel flashes. The wind was now nearly at typhoon force. It ripped large chunks of debris from houses and dragged it all along the square. Rain was falling so hard and so fast that it looked like layer upon layer of fine maidens' veils.

The storm was all but upon them.

For a moment, Clow stayed rooted to the spot, surveying the terrible scene. But _only_ for a moment did he linger. By his next breath, the sorcerer had already gathered his cloak back around him and, basket held tightly in his arms, dashed out into the downpour.

He was very late now—he was _frighteningly_ late! The wrath of the cards was already underway! But he would not surrender now! He would make it to the manor on time—!

Running as fast as his lefts would carry him, Clow tore through Lightwater in record time. More than once, he feared he might slip and fall upon the wet, muddy ground, but each time he forced himself to keep going. The magician could feel his heart hammering faster and harder than he ever would have thought it could go. His muscled ached and his every breath stung in his chest. Normally, he would have believed he could not carry on. He was no athlete! He was not a warrior built with stamina and endurance! Not by far! Normally, he would have called this his limit. But tonight, adrenaline and bitter determination were winning out over the cries of the flesh. Somehow it gave him the strength to keep going.

As he tore across the bridge on the outskirts of town, Clow noted with a pang the state of the river beneath his feet. The little creek that normally provided the town with the gift of fresh water was now nearly filled to the brim. In an hour or so, it would overflow its banks. In two or more, it could well flood the entire village. Even more empowered than he had been before, Clow dashed viciously onward. He _would_ succeed! He _would_ protect the town!

As he ran onward, the sorcerer could also not help but be aware of an ominous rumbling in the hills—a rumbling that had nothing to do with the thunder! The hills around Lightwater made lovely guardians for the valley, but they were not well-guarded themselves. They were open plains, free of many frees and terribly vulnerable to the heavy rains. Mud slides. Clearly, it was already beginning, and it would only get worse from here. If the hills gave way, it would only take one large mudslide to wipe out most of the town.

Clow bid his aching feet to increase their pace, even as every fiber of his flesh protested. He had to get home—and fast! Powered by his unyielding will, the winded magician reached the manor in what seemed to be almost no time at all. As he dashed out of the forest's edge, he found himself greeted by two figures dashing towards him down the lawn: one gold and one silver.

"Clow!" the golden one cried, his squealing voice cut shrilly though the gales. "The storm, it's—!"

"It's upon us," the silver finished for him as the pair skidded to a halt before their master. "And an enormous aura of power has descended upon the manor."

"Yes," Clow gasped, clutching at his sides. "I saw the effects down in the valley. The storm is indeed upon us. We must hurry."

The boys nodded. Yue offered a hand to help his elder to his feet, but Clow shook him away. He was beaten, he was exhausted, and he would have liked nothing better at the moment than to let his athletic young beauty help drag him to the house. But he couldn't be dependent on anyone else tonight. This was certainly not the most difficult thing the storm had in store for him. And in a very short time, he would be engaged in a fight the likes of which his precious sons could not help him. It was time for the scholar to take up his sword.

Yue hesitated for a moment longer, but he seemed to sense the purity of his companion's motives. So, without a moment to spare, the trio turned and hurried up the lawn to the house. In their haste, they paid no heed to the long, winding pathway that led up the front steps. They ran over hill and over dale, through mud and wind and rain. Enormous puddles splashed all around them out of the eddies, and at every uphill climb, Clow felt that his legs would give way beneath him, but still they dashed on. Yue, his silvery hair shining, lead the way. Cerberus galloped close behind him, fur caked with muck. Clow took up the rear.

At last, they reached the stairs to the entry hall beyond, beneath the banner that read 'Magia est Immortalis'. Stumbling across the threshold, Clow sensed his newfound energy begin to leave him. As the door to the hall slammed shut behind them, as the sounds of the rain were silenced, the sorcerer felt his knees buckle. Unceremoniously, he collapsed to the floor. His head was suddenly spinning rather furiously, and flashes of colored light were dancing before his eyes. The wizard let himself sink to the floor, not caring how much mud he was covered with in the process. With a pale hand, he clutched at his heart, which was hammering so hard from exertion that he feared it might burst through his chest.

The boys were with him in seconds, worried voices calling his name. For just a short time longer, Clow let his weakness consume him. Then, taking several deep, shaking breaths, he forced himself to regain control. Lethargically, he brushed away the mages' concerns. "I'm fine," he panted, flashing what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Just a bit winded, I fear I scarcely have your physique—either one of you!" Seeing the worried looks still plastered in his partners' faces, he attempted to make a good-natured chuckle, but between his gasping breaths, it was far from convincing. Yue in particular did not seem to be fooled.

"Are you certain you're all right?" he asked slowly. His brows was furrowed slightly, and his pale eyes scrutinized his elder with suspicion.

"Yes," the wizard sighed," I am sure. And at any rate, I scarcely have a choice, do I?" The young blond looks like he was going to respond in protest, so Clow hastily pressed on with the matter at hand: "Yue, you are the fastest. Will you run upstairs and get my new robes?" The mage bit his lip as if desperately wanting to say more. But with a sigh, he nodded and rose to his feet. "Good," Clow muttered, making to rise himself. His feet were terribly unsteady, but, leaning slightly on Cerberus for support, he managed. "Your brother and I will mix everything up and meet you by the roof access in the west wing. And you had better make sure you are wearing something comfortable as well," he added as the lunar mage made to leave. "There is scarcely any reason for formalities tonight."

Yue smirked, an impish expression playing suddenly about his features. "Well," he cooed with a flourish of his hair, "I could always go naked."

Clow immediately flushed a bright shade of vermillion. The blond boy chuckled evilly, apparently content with his victory. Without a word more, he hastily made off towards the stairs.

Cerberus, meanwhile, stuck out his tongue in disgust at his siblings' retreating form. "Oh, please don't!" he shouted with mock revulsion. "Let's not add insult to injury this evening! It's bad enough having to share a room with you every night!"

Yue glanced back at them and threw Cerberus a rather rude hand gesture, but he did not break stride.

When the door out of the entrance hall had swung shut behind him, Clow leaned in toward his little lion. "Why exactly is it so bad sharing a room with him?" he asked, blinking with confusion.

"Because he sleeps naked," Cerberus said bluntly, "Especially during the summer. Why, you want to sleep over some time?" he sniggered devilishly. Clow's flush deepened. Cerberus laughed with relish. "Yea, he jibed, stretching his back out extravagantly, "on that note, I think I can _definitely_ say that Yue is not a little girl, no matter how much he may whine like one!"

"Why do you do this to me?" Clow mumbled from beneath a curtain of hair. (It did little to cover his ruddy complexion.)

"Because you're _way_ too easy, Red," the cub responded, clapping him on the back. "Now, come on! We ain't got much time and we've got a lot to do! We have to get to mixing this stuff before flower boy gets back down here and shows us some of that signature nagging."

Clow's head snapped up at once, the mention of their mission sobering him up like a pot of cold water. There was still one more thing he had to tell his elder son about before they went out there tonight—it would be better if someone else knew. In case… "Cerberus, the wizard said with sudden urgency, "there is actually something you should know about. Something I would rather your brother not hear.

"What is it?" the lion asked at once. His jesting tone was immediately abandoned for something more serious.

Clow took a deep, slow breath to steady himself. It was now or never, and he really did need to tell someone else… "I've seen a vision of tonight's events," he confessed gravely, "and I fear Yue may be in awful danger."

"Really?" Cerberus retorted, voice rising with obvious surprise. "Yue's in danger? Are you sure?"

Clow was greatly taken aback. "You mean you didn't see it?" he asked with bewilderment.

The beast shook his furry head. "No," he responded. "I've had dreams about the storm, but not about Yue…

"Then again," he added with a touch of malice, "since when have my visions been particularly accurate anyway?"

An uneasy silence settled between them. Clow bit his lip. He felt he should say something—console his little child! He felt he should reassure the cub that he was still young yet—that Clow himself was still getting the handle on this forcasting power, even at _his_ age! But they were running on a very tight schedule just now and he really did need to get his message across while he could… Besides, the sorcerer reasoned, there would still be plenty of time to talk after the storm—provided Clow himself survived, anyway! And If he didn't… well, then it would be of little consequence.

"Cerberus," he said at last, making up his mind, "The long and short of it is that I know Yue might well be injured tonight—perhaps quite seriously. In fact, I fear quite seriously. But I do not know how, and nor do I know if I will even be able to reach him. So I picked up some general curatives while I was in the village…"

"I get the drift," Cerberus cut in. His golden eyes met his master's, fixing him with a reassuring gaze. "Of course I'll help, if I can. You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for dumb blond. Give me the rundown."

And so, with a tearful smile, Clow and his sin proceeded to go through every item in the wizard's laden shopping basket.

…

A monstrous clap of thunder erupted over Reed Manor.

The raging rain had not let up, and now the beautiful fields and glades of the lawn were more like a giant mud pit. And it was only getting worse. Broken branches, torn-off leaves, and collapsed trunks all plagued the trees of the surrounding wood. Over the eastern cliffs, the lake was fat and swollen like a fresh wound. The storm was growing fiercer still.

An enormous flash of lightning lit up the sky just south of the manor-house. It cast the silhouette of the rooftop against the blazing sky. So too, it revealed the figure of a tall man standing upon its slick surface, doubled over against the cacophony. As the thunder subsided, Clow Reed slowly removed the hands he had clasped over his ears. With a look of fearful determination, he watched the heavens through his rain-washed spectacles.

Clow had gone through a rather radical costume change since he had collapsed In the entrance hall. No longer was he dressed in his muddy cloak and sodden clothing from down in the village. The soft silk of a long, white robe graced his sides. It was a good, familiar feeling, the touch of a silken skirt billowing about his ankles. It was a style of dress that he had known well in his childhood, back in China. Back with his other… But aside from the innermost garment, there was nothing eastern about his appearance. A lavish golden vest ran across his chest—a staple of modern European fashion if Clow had ever seen one. His hair was drawn back in a loose, western ponytail which he had grown rather accustomed to wince his move to England. Even the cut of the long, black cloak that shielded him from the rain was modeled entirely from an ancient British design He held it tightly to his chest, the star-shaped emblem at the front pleat momentarily coming together. Across his back, a golden representation of Clow's own magic circle flapped in the wind. _Those _particular components he did not think his fellow townsmen would approve of, but that was scarcely the point at the moment.

A Chinese base covered by a grand, English exterior. It was high time the outward appearance reflected the man within. East meets West. That very distinction of his birth, and of his magic was what had made all of this possible. It was what had made his brand of sorcery special: drawn from the power of darkness itself, not desperately calling on the power of the sun or the moon for guidance. It was time he embraced it. He had to be himself tonight, for only the true and confident Clow Reed would be able to survive this trial.

As the rumble of thunder paused to catch its breath, the magician cast a furtive glance down at the lawn below. In the dark ness of the storm, he could barely see two figures moving about amidst the rain. But, though he could not see the boys, he could feel the pulse of their magic washing over him. Yue's cool, ebbing aura; Cerberus' hot and burning like fire. He could feel his sons extending their very hearts and souls over him, encouraging him on. They wrapped the warm glow of their presence around him like a security blanket around a frightened child. Their love gave him new resolve.

Before the thunder could start up again, Clow reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a small golden key. Digging up his most deep-set courage, he began to chant:

"_Key that hides the Power of Darkness!"_

Lightning flashed at his words. The wind picked up. Clow stumbled slightly but did not stop his spell. The key in his hand twinkled to life. Feebly, it cast a pale luminance against the gloom. At his feet, the faint outline of his magic circle sparkled on the rooftop.

"_Reveal thy true form before me!"_

Yet another flash of lightning cut across the night. The storm was clearly fighting with him, aware of what this sorcerer was doing. In the distance, the crash of trees resounded like gunfire. But Clow was not deterred—not when he had his family standing behind him. He only shouted louder into the gales, his voice echoing above the din.

"_By our contract, I, Clow, command thee!"_

Thunder roared violently, itse explosive epicenter splitting the air directly above the roof or Reed Manor. The wretched sound drowned out all others in its path. The wind, the rain, the crackle of airborne debris: all was silenced by the force of its wrath.

Clow bit his tongue, the key in his outstretched palm now blazing like a golden torch. No, he would not let this storm mock him. It would take far more than that to defeat Clow Reed—Clow Reed, heir to the two most powerful families in either hemisphere! Screaming so loudly that it tore his throat raw—so loudly that it might have been heard in the village!—his last word broke above even the thunder.

"_RELEASE!"_

The key erupted with light. The contrast was so stark against the void of the storm, that Clow felt his eyes water. He blinked, blinded, and the light faded—when darkness consumed the lawn again—it was no longer a key the magician held in his hand. The shining sun tips of his wizards' staff reached up to stab at the raging skies. The crescent moon hidden beneath its rays was only half as glorious as the one that hid behind the storm clouds, giving him strength. No, he would _not_ lose so easily! He would _win_ this fight!

Wasting no time, the soggy sorcerer immediately reached into his inner pocket. Fumbling with the button he had purposefully sewn in, Clow hastily withdrew a stack of cards, His heart began to race again as the storm continued its grumbling—over the grounds, over the hills, over Lightwater, helpless on the horizon. His hands shook as he sorted through the cards. It was almost time for the serious fight to begin. The gales continued to beat down upon the man, hammering at his back and his numb fingers. But though his grip shook, it did not falter. He would not let the storm take this deck away from him—not willingly, at least. And certainly not this easily. If his foe wanted his cards so badly, they would have to pry them from his cold, unyielding corpse!

At last finding all the spirits he desired among the sixteen he held, Clow summoned the lot of them into being. Windy. Watery. Fiery. Wood. Earthy. Erase. Mirror. Flower. All of his lovely sprites that had a human-like form. (With the exception of Light and Dark, who cost too much energy for such a mission. He also chose to neglect Glow, who was too small to be useful in this task. )

For a moment, the sorcerer felt his head spin as it had done back in the entryway. Thick, black clouds and shimmering colors twinkled upon his vision—both phenomena that had nothing to do with the storm. Clow leaned on his staff, panting for breath. He had rarely ever called upon the cards before, and certainly never eight at a time—! The wizard's confidence in himself waned slightly, but he viciously beat back his doubts. He wasn't finished yet, just a bit stunned. The wash of the boys' magical auras still beat within him, egging him on. Giving him strength. Yes, he could do this. Using the cards might be a new sensation to him, but _sealing them_?

Sealing them was second nature.

Turning to the circle of concerned spirits around him, Clow addressed the group as a whole. "All of you, listen up!" he choked hoarsely. "This storm, it is here to test us—to test me. It wants to take you lot away from me. I must defeat it myself, but there is one task I that I could certainly use your help to complete."

The cards each stiffened at his speech, their faces alight with the same expression of loyalty and faith. Faith in a master they had scarcely known but for a few short years—some of them even less! They could just have easily have scowled at him, resented his dominion and his quest to seal them. It was something Clow had never thought about before now… Until this evening, he had never had to fight with a card to seal it. Indeed, they had each all but revealed themselves to him willingly, though the boys. He had always assumed that they had been obligated to do so because he had Cerberus and Yue at his side—the two ancient souls from which each of these elements drew their existence. But seeing his deck here and now: _smiling_ at him! Faces full of encouragement and trust! He knew that they could just as well have be rooting for his opponent in their hearts—rooting for the storm! Even if they were forced to obey him, they could have done so half-heartedly. After all, if he lost this fight, they would be free again, belonging to no man. And truly, some of these cards had good reason to hate him…

Clow's eyes drifted to his left, where Mirror stood, her long sea-foam hair billowing around her. If _anyone_ had the right to hate him… the things he had done to her…

But even in this little pixie's eyes, there was nothing but fondness—loyalty! "We are all with you," she said quietly, but in the magician's mind, her voice rang like a thousand church bells. "Please, tell us what we can do."

The cards all around nodded their agreement, though they could not express it in words. Their confidence, the boys' love. Everyone was rooting for him. Clow felt like someone had started a fire within his breast. A warm, gentle glow began to burn away the damp, dank darkness within him.

"Thank you," the wizard muttered, trying to keep his swell of emotions out of his voice. The cards all beamed silently in reply. Remounting his courage, Clow turned to them each in turn, a new glimmer of hope shining in his eyes. "All right!" he declared as the storm around them began to grumble and roar again. "Then we must hurry!"

Wasting no more time, Clow bent down and reached into a wicker basket at his feet—the same one he had carried down to the village earlier that day. A few at a time, he grabbed up handfuls of roughly-hewn leather pouches. Within each of them, a pale mixture of salt and ground rose petals twinkled like stars. "I need you all to take one of these," he explained, "and sprinkle a circle around the grounds. "

Each spirit nodded its understanding. They formed a single-file line in front of Clow and one by one, as the wind and rain beat him raw, the sorcerer draped a pouch around each of their shoulders. Each spirit now armed, he watched them zoom off into the distance. The once-dark grounds now lit up with an abundance of color and sound as each of the primal elements danced about its borders. Blazing fire, purprescent wind. Each of the cards raced to their work as if the vicious storm were not even a concern. Indeed, the typhoon that raged over the town seemed not even able to touch them.

As lightning and magic alike illuminated the night, Clow took one last glance down to the lawn beneath him. Cerberus and Yue were much easier to see now, even through the curtain of rain that fell between them. They both stood in positions, their figures braced against the gales. Cerberus stood at the very center of the grounds, immediately before the steps up to the manor. He was crouched low to the Earth, paws dug deep into the much for grounding against the storm. No amount of nature's fury could shake this majestic creature. He was an immovable pillar. Clow squinted through the gloom, gaze scanning the ground beneath the cub's paws. He could just faintly discern the outline of a perfect circle surrounding the beast—a shape he had drawn painstakingly into the mud whilst Clow had been fiddling with cards. For a quadrapedal creature, he showed surprising dexterity.

The wizard's eyes meandered slowly to the northwest. Some many yards away from his brother, another figure stood steadfast against the storm. Yue Reed glowed like a pale beacon against the darkness. He too stood rooted to spot, somewhere perfectly equidistant to both Cerberus and the surrounding forest. Like his partner, he had drawn a circle into the Earth around himself. Clow Shuddered slightly as he gazed upon the boy. Even from this great length away, he would have sworn he could feel the beauty's piercing gaze upon him.

They were ready, and they were waiting.

In what seemed like no time at all, the flurry of colors about the lawn began to fade. Just as they had gone out, one by one, the cards finished their missions and zoomed back towards the rooftop. With a flash, they returned to their ink-and-paper forms and floated down to their master. Clow caught his precious deck and stowed them back within the safety of his cloak pocket. He would be a very lucky man if he did not need their help again this night—and something told the old sorcerer that he was anything but lucky! But there was still a chance… He still had to try!

When all of the spirits had done their job, Clow cast one last glance down at his family on the ground below. The storm was raging now—thrashing down all of its fury upon the Lightwater area. The rains now were so thick and unrelenting that Clow could not even see as far as the forests and the lake around him. Cerberus and Yue both stood their ground, but they were sinking, slowly sinking into the mud. Clow watched the pair of them flinch as another clap of thunder boomed overhead. The winds became so strong that all three magicians were forced to double over or lose their balance. The storm knew what was coming. It knew what they were about to attempt. Clow felt his fragile confidence falter.

But through the rain, through the wind, through the tempest that threatened to destroy them, two pair of eyes found their way to Clow through the night. One pair, a valiant gold; the other pair, a piercing violet. For the space of a single heartbeat, their gazes met, and both boys nodded their encouragement.

Clow lingered upon his precious children just a moment longer. If he had his way, he would have looked upon them forever. He stared particularly long at Yue, as if afraid to turn away. His nightmare from the eve before weighed heavily on his mind. Would he ever see those lovely violet eyes again? Would they ever blink up at him like this? So full of encouragement and love? But a clap of thunder overhead shook the wizard from his reverie. No, he couldn't think like that. He _couldn't_ surrender to his fear! He was the _only_ one who could stop this storm!

Their lives depended on him now, as did the lives in all the town!

Clow's heart beat so hard within his chest that it was beginning to make him feel lightheaded. He wouldn't be surprised if all this stress and exertion had caused it to wear away his breastbone from within. His limbs felt weak and heavy; they trembled as he fumbled about with his robes. He was terrified—terrified as he had never been before! Everything was riding on this. All his chips were seret on the table and it was time to start laying out his hand. He was anxious. He was fearful. He was _petrified_!

But he would _not_ surrender!

As lightning lit up the sky all around them, Clow grasped hold of a deck of tarot cards nestled within his robes. Raising his staff, he cast them into the air, locking them in orbit within the sphere of his magic.

He _would _succeed! He _had_ to!

With one more silent spell, the cards flashed a blazing red and immediately snapped into a circle about the wizard's feet. Magically adhered to the roof, they would not budge even as the typhoon barraged them with its horrors. Just as at Yue's birth, a ring of cars stood at the ready, prepared to seal whatever spirits he was to encounter.

Raising his staff high into the heavens, Clow closed his eyes and let the powers of the night consume him.

And eerie hush descended upon the world. The storm outside was still raging, but within the sorcerer's mind, it had been reduced to the most distant whisper. Clow's magic senses spread out of him like a wine stain on fine fabric. He felt is opponent—felt it as he had done with Yue but a day before.

But the storm was _not_ the same as it had been in his bedroom.

No longer was it merely a dark, looming thing. No more was it a faint threat floating on the horizon . It Was angry. It was furious. The feeling of absolute violence and wrath overwhelmed Clow as he tapped into the aura of his foe. But still he could not identify the enemy specifically. There was probably more than one spirit whirring in the skies over Surrey, but he could not tell where they began and ended. Whatever he was facing, its presence was diluted as it spread its reach over all of Lightwater.

Clow had never sealed a card before that he could not identify—let alone ones that he could barely sense! In the past, the answers had always come to him, as if he had known all along that he would be sealing a card that particular day. He had always been able to somehow _feel_ their identities and peacefully call them into being. But this… Something in his heart of hearts told the man that this would probably not work, but it was worth a try nonetheless. Perhaps the simplest solution would be all it took…Raising his staff high, the sorcerer made his choice and cried: "Seal!"

His staff erupted with a brilliant light and the cards around the wizard's feet began to glow. For a split second, Clow believed he might have done it! But his moment of joy was short-lived. In an instant, the initial shimmer of magic faded away. The heavens ignited with a great flash of lightning. Thunder that sounded more like a roaring monster pounded the air. Before Clow even knew what was happening, the winds picked up and threatened to throw him from the roof. It was clear that the simplest method had failed, as Clow had suspected. And, like a wounded animal, the storm was fighting back—punishing the man for his foolish attempt.

As he fought to keep his balance, the sorcerer watched in horror as a series of lightning bolts pelted the landscape in retaliation. They rained down like Judgment Day upon the woods and hills all around the area. From somewhere down in the village, a series of frightened screams cut the air like a knife. Clow, helpless on the roof, could do nothing but stare in terror as yet more cries swelled up from Lightwater below. He swore he could almost see new flickers of light flood out of houses as the residents rushed to the streets. The town was in trouble. It wouldn't survive long if this kept up!

Fierce passion welling up inside him, Clow leaped to his feet. "It didn't work!" he cried over the ledge to Cerberus and Yue. "Brace yourselves!" He watched both boys stiffen in their stances, ready to execute their plan. The pulse of their auras quickened and intensified. They washed over Clow like an enormous wave, imbibing him with such power and strength that he nearly moaned as the surge overcame him. They were with him—both of them! They were ready.

Without a single hesitation, Clow raised his staff again. He said no words—it was truly not even a spell. As the storm rumbled and growled at its prey, a flash of light shot out of the golden sunrays and cast an eerie glow over the manor and its grounds. It shimmered upon Clow's rain-washed glasses. It twinkled upon the feathers of Cerberus's extended wings and danced upon Yue's long silver stresses. All three sorcerers softly closed their eyes, sensing the simple magic as it built up all around them. It was not a fancy attack. It was not some complex magic that had taken Clow months to think up. It was just a flash of light—a trick so innocent that even magical infants all around the world could have produced the same. Hell, Clow _himself _might have done as a child! But it united them. It washed over the three bodies: two sinking into the mud, one battling against the wind. It drew the lot of them into its embrace with no regard to the physical distance between them. Indeed, that distance seemed to be closing now. They did not feel so far apart.

Clow breathed slowly and calmly, even though deep inside him, his nerves were still leaping with fright, with anxiety. He let the light consume him, entrance him. He need not be afraid. Yes, his foe was dangerous. Yes, this night was likely to be more difficult than anything they had faced yet—perhaps even more formidable than was the boys' births! But he had an advantage in this battle that he had not enjoyed before: he was not alone. Cerberus and Yue, their auras—their hearts, their minds, their _souls_!—filling him inside and out. They were the blanket wrapped around him. They were the burning warmth within his belly. The three of them were one, and not even the fierceness of the storm could defeat this sacred bond. Clow wanted to hesitate only a second longer. He wanted to turn to the boys one last time, to ask them if they were ready for what their trio was about to unleash—to ask if they really understood the magnitude of this undertaking. But there was no need. He could feel them. They were with him. They were _inside_ him! And they believed in him.

Letting one last deep breath of the dank night air, Clow opened his eyes, but was not truly looking through them. His sapphire eyes stared blankly into the eastern sky, mind still deep within its trance—deep within that warm place, his family at his side. The glow of his staff still radiated around them like a great beacon. As lightning erupted across the sky, he screamed his spell, voice straining to be heard above the tempest. But it was not in English that he shouted his incantation. Strange, foreign words, that sounded more melody than language resounded over the manor. Cerberus and Yue should not have been able to understand him. But somehow, they did. On the ground, they stood steadfast, their eyes still closed. Their voices were flat an resonant as they hypnotically echoed their companion:

"_Unknown spirits,"_ they whispered in perfect unison—one voice a treble, one budding baritone, _"we summon ye."_

Winds wavered. For a moment, they stopped their onslaught and hovered above the earth, as if uncertain how to react. The rain continued to fall, but Clow's staff glowed ever more intensely through its misty veil. Wasting no time, the wizard beneath the golden rays turned southward. Yet again he raised his staff and cried to the skies in flawless Mandarin. His song-like words were nearly identical to his first acclamation, but equally as alien. Thunder crackled overhead, but the boys did not flinch. Slightly louder this time, they chanted in reply:

"_Sprits of nature, we summon ye."_

The gales became stronger, apparently having made up their mind. As Clow's staff began to shake with power, it had realized what they were doing. The typhoon winds pounded down upon the trio of sorcerers. It tore like needles at their rain-soaked flesh. It threatened to rip away their sodden garments. But the magicians' concentration did not falter. Like immovable statues, they did not move from their posts. Turning towards the western sky, Clow screamed his spell even louder than before, his tone rising and falling with purposeful infection. Following suit, Yue and Cerberus cried:

"_Spirits of the storm! We summon ye!"_

The staff in Clow's hand erupted with magic until it was brighter even than the lightning overhead. Its owner recoiled, his eyes watering. He could scarcely look at the thing any longer! It was too brilliant for his mere mortal body! He feared it might blind him! Thunder boomed around them, shaking the forest with its force. The winds had all but torn him raw. The exhausted sorcerer could barely feel his fingers shaking around the metal shaft in his hands. They had grown numb with cold. His voice was so hoarse that he scarcely had the strength to speak. But with his last bit of resolve—squinting through the light—Clow forced himself to turn and face the final cardinal direction: to face north, where his allies stood swimming in the mud. He could see his sons below him now, each shivering against the wind, but remaining fiercely resolute. Drawing up as much power as he could muster, Clow screeched his final phrase into the void. His foreign words sounded almost more like a battle cry. And in like spirits, his companions responded, their voices screaming to the heavens with volume to rival the thunder:

"_Power beneath our signs! We __command__ thee!" _

A glow brighter than one thousand suns consumed the entire landscape. Clow was at last forced to look away, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. If he had thought himself blinded before, now he would surely be so forever! But even beneath his eyelids, he could not escape the luminance. The light was so forceful now that it seemed to burn straight _through_! The staff had become like a hot iron in his hands, and it was everything the wizard could do to hold onto it! While the power consumed the valley—halting even the storm—the three men began to chant together, their entwined voices ringing like the chapel bells:

"_Thou spirit who disrupts our night,_

_Then hither come and seek thy fight!_

_Till 'neath our seal thou each shall be named,_

_Within this circle all ye be contained!"_

A high, ear-splitting ring sounded throughout the valley, causing the trio to flinch universally in pain. Then, far more slowly than it had come, the glow around them began to fade…

But in its place, there was not the empty darkness as had consumed them before. Surrounding the manor, there was now a faint aura of white light. It sparkled along the lines of salt that the cards had meticulously laid down around them: a perfect circle, countless yards in diameter. It pulsed and grew as the swirl of magic on the lawn grew to an even more fervent pitch. They were not done yet. They were not even at the climax of their enchantment! Bodies remained stiffened in the cold, minds alert and tapped deeply into the powers around them. So much power filled the air that it was nearly suffocating! Still, waiting power. Waiting to be used. The anticipation was more than in their minds—it was palpable!

"_Iussu Sol!"_ Cerberus cried, his high-pitched voice shrieking like a harpy. Like the orb around the grounds, the circle drawn at his feet immediately burst with brilliant luminosity into the night. But unlike the salt circle, it did not stop there. Enormous triangular beams leapt at once out of his sphere and jutted across the lawn like a series of sword-tips. A great, emblazoned drawing of the sun etched itself into the grass all across the manor complex. It quite nearly reached the trees, such was its size!

Farther down the lawn, Yue took a deep breath. Now it was his turn. Bearing down, he screamed to the heavens like his brother, but his words were not quite the same as his sibling's. "_Iussu Luna!"_ he yelled above the pounding rain. At once, the circle at his feet erupted as well with white light. But it was not a sun that was forming. Nestled in Cerberus' rays, a second great circle appeared around the first. They were greatly offset each other, the beams of the two spheres nearly touching where they came together at Yue's toes. Behind him, they stretched into the distance as an enormous crescent moon. With a flash, a third, fat circlet of light surrounded the boy and his shimmering crest. It cut him off from the touch of his brother's rays—locking him in orbit.

Upon the rooftop, Clow felt his muscles tense. This was it. It was all up to him now. Straining his already-wounded throat, the wizard screamed to the heavens above: "_By the Power of Darkness!"_

His words issued, the hot, blinding light returned with a vengeance. The terrible ringing sound resumed, tearing at the sorcerers' eardrums until they feared they would bleed. Their eyes, their ears… they were falling apart at the seams! This magic—this power was punishing those who dared use so much of it! But their torment did not last forever. As dry, enchanted winds began to kick up around the area, the glow began to condense. With one final bell-like noise, new lines appeared upon the ground: writing, symbols, orbitals inside of orbitals. Clow's magic circle—brilliant and enormous upon the lawn—leapt into being beneath them.

The edges burst into life, shooting up into the heavens to form an enormous gleaming cylinder into the void. It wrapped around the inky clouds above, forming a radiant dome over the manor and her grounds. The storm let out a deafening, beast-like roar. All three magicians fell to their knees, hands clasped tightly over their ears, but there was no stopping the terrible sound. The storm began flashing, crashing, and hounding the earth with all the fury it had in its power. But it was futile. The clouds swirled and swarmed within the dome. They condensed into a giant sticky mass, revolving over the hilltop. Their spell had worked. No longer was their foe diluted and spread out over all of Lightwater. Now it was their captive—contained and solidified within the confines of these ancestral lands. It could not escape the circle drawn by its fellow cards. Try though it might, its attacks could no longer reach the village.

But, while the storm was now trapped within a fraction of its previous area, it was certainly no weaker, and certainly no less angry. In fact, Clow would now have called it murderous. Like a fluid substance under great pressure, its mass did not change; but in this smaller volume, it became denser and more concentrated. The storm itself, as well as its fury. Winds so powerful they would have destroyed the town now hurtled across the lawn. Cerberus and Yue were both struck down by the force of the gales and collapsed into the mud. They ducked low to avoid an onslaught of missile-like debris. For a moment, Clow was filled with an impulsive desire to rush to their sides. To help them—to make sure they were all right! But before he could even so much as twitch, the siblings began to force themselves back to their feet. They shook with strain as the winds continued to blow, mud-splattered and looking as if they had had their breath thoroughly knocked out of them. But their resolve was not broken.

Tearing his eyes away, Clow focused his attention back to the job at hand. He peered at the smoky monster swirling above him. It flashed with an internal lightning, as if threatening with it power. Or perhaps it was egging him on—inviting the wizard to do his worst. Clow closed his eyes and tried once again to sense the spirits within the storm.

He could fell them more easily now that they were tethered within the manor boundaries. No more were they vague shapes floating over all of eastern Surrey. But even though he could sense them more clearly, he still could neither identify nor even count the powers around him. It wasn't enough. He had trapped his opponent, but he had not beaten it yet. Clow's hand twitched upon his staff. His delicate confidence threatened to shatter yet again. This was not the outcome he had hoped for… he had wished to end this here and now, before any part of his nightmare could take place…

But he would not give up yet.

Even if he could not simply pinpoint the cards in the tempest, he had at least forced them out of Lightwater. Now there was no leverage for either side. Now it was simply magic against magic. No innocent lives would be lost for a problem that the Reed sorcerers had created—that _Clow _had created! There was still a chance. This could still work! Perhaps he didn't need to know their names! Perhaps capturing them would be enough…

Raising his staff for what felt like the millionth time, Clow cried: "_Seal!"_

The golden rays of his staff ignited at once, more brilliant now than they had been before. The tarot cards at his feet twitched, letting out a weak glow. Could it be? the wizard thought frantically to himself. Could he have done it?

But as before, the victory was short-lived. After only a few seconds of feeble flickering, the cards fell slack and lifeless once more. The light around his staff faded lamely into darkness. Rather than being sealed away, the storm clouds swirled overhead, growling with cacophonous thunder. Then, without warning, a trio of mighty, condensed lightning bolts hurtled out of the storm, directly at Clow. The frightened sorcerer only had a split second to throw himself to the hard, sodden surface of the roof to avoid the attack. He rolled and slipped upon the slick tiles—for a moment, he feared he might fall to his death! He had failed again, and this was the new, concentrated retaliation. Clow caught his balance, skidding to a messy halt. But he didn't have so much as a break to catch his breath before he was forced to roll out of the way again to avoid a second onslaught. It struck the roof behind him and exploded with steam and bits of stone. Clow threw his cloak over his head, desperately hoping to deflect the debris. Yes, he thought bitterly as he watched the tile smolder and smoke where he had just been lying. Yes. The time for fun and games was clearly over. This was the _real_ battle! His _real_ trial!

Against the wind and the rain, Clow forced himself to his feet. He was no warrior, but he would stand and fight nonetheless. His legs were wobbly and uncertain against the slippery surface beneath him, but he did not let them give way. The storm was not giving up either. With a growl of thunder, it prepared yet another barrage of lightning to rain down upon him. Swallowing down bile, the wizard realized that there was only one way he was going to get ahead of this storm: he was going to have to run for his life.

…

Clow Reed was not the only one dodging attacks.

Down on the ground, Cerberus and Yue were facing a vicious barrage all their own. The clouds above them crackled, and roared, and sent down barrage after barrage of lightning strikes upon the landscape. But one thing was becoming quickly apparent to the boys: this was no ordinary lightning. As it hurtled toward the ground, it did not do so as an, arching, violet flash. It did not strike the Earth in a single second and then dissipate into nothingness. No, this lightning was sentient—it was alive! As it flew toward the ground, it turned and twisted, chasing the mages all across the lawn. Only when it finally struck at them and missed would it disappear into the dirt. But that was becoming a considerably difficult feat to accomplish. Even when one bolt was defeated, the storm continued hurling more and more down at them.

Cerberus squealed like a pig being chased to slaughter. He galloped about the lawn, dodging attacks left and right; his high-pitched voice screeched like a harpy across the deep, rolling thunder. The cub was anything but graceful. He was succeeding in avoiding the barrage of lightning, but whether this was due to skill or dumb luck was up for debate. He bumbled across the muddy plains, paws flailing in every direction. The beams singed at his tail and ankles as they struck Earth mere inches behind him. From across the lawn, a pair of violet eyes watched him fleetingly, their owner painfully reminded of the proverbial chicken with its head cut off.

Yue, on the other hand, was having marginally more success than his sibling. He stared up at the storm with scrutiny, waiting for it to attack him. As the furious burst rained down, he stood his ground, forcing his body be still even as his every nerve was bidding him do otherwise. Heart hammering in his chest, he let the bolts draw terribly near to him until their momentum would not allow them to make any great course corrections. Then, at the last second, he rolled out of the way, systematically dodging the bullets as they struck the dirt. But while he was infinitely more graceful than Cerberus, the boy's youth was still showing. While he avoided the attacks with unquestionable success, the great Yue Reed was not as graceful as he usually would have been. In his element, he could slide elegantly through the movements of his training exercises—flawlessly launch attacks and duck beneath return strikes. But he had never been in battle before—not really. This was far different than practice. As he leapt out of the way of the glimmering onslaughts, his movements were shaky and uncertain. He was thinking completely on his toes, and was stumbling and falling at an alarming rate. More than once, he stumbled into the mud and was barely able to roll out of the way before the enemy struck him down. His limbs trembled and shook with adrenaline as it raced through his system. He was aware—_painfully aware!—_of his own mortality just now. But even as blood pounded in his ears, he would not back down. The sounds of Cerberus' screams still echoed to him through the rain. They wouldn't survive like this long.

He couldn't keep dodging forever… There _had_ to be a way to strike back!

As another growl of thunder exploded overhead, Yue dug deep into the sodden ground. He spread his knees beneath him, bracing himself in a strong and sturdy stance. He glanced again at Cerberus, galloping and twirling across the lawn. Running would do him no good, that was obvious. It was time for a game of chicken, but not the kind his brother was partaking in. He watched as flashes of yellow light blasted out of the clouds and flew like enormous arrows straight toward him. But this time, Yue did not leap out of the way as the bolts drew near. Instead, he summoned his magic forth, charging his hands with glowing violet power. When the barrage was mere yards away, he twisted on spot, sending crude whips of energy lashing out at the beams. The bolts flickered and phased with instability as the whips struck them. For a moment, the mage smirked, believing he had succeeded. But the next second, his smile was wiped instantly from his face.

Rather than vanishing, the bolts reformed as if they were not material at all! Throwing himself into the mud, Yue was barely able to roll out of the way before they struck the ground a moment later with explosive force. The strike shook the Earth right where the young mage had been standing and sent chunks of burning grass and flash-dried dirt up into the air. But Yue had no time for relief at his narrow escape. Before he could even process what had happened, a strange shockwave of energy burst out of the crater into the ground surrounding. Yue doubled over as he felt it wash over him. His muscles in his lower limbs tensed as a strange sickly heat shot up his spine. Instinctively, he clutched at his chest as his heart skipped several beats. He felt as if his breath had suddenly been knocked out of him. The world spun, familiar black clouds momentarily consuming the lawn.

Then, as quickly as it had come, the sensation passed. Yue collapsed to the ground, gasping for dear life. Apparently making up for lost time, his heart began pounding so hard and so fast that it almost chocked him.

"They're not physical!" He coughed down the lawn at Cerberus, who was still leaping and dodging bolts in what looked like an incredibly macabre dance. "Don't try attacking them!"

"What the hell are they, then!" the cub screeched in reply, desperately trying to outrun a rogue lightning bolt.

Before Yue could answer, another barrage of lightning hurtled towards him, and he was forced to leap out of the way. With trembling hands, he reached up and smoothed the static out of his hair. "They're some kind of energy!" he cried back. "I think it might be electrical!"

Cerberus made a rather colorful description of divine anatomy. "Are you serious?" he shrieked, throwing Yue an accusing stare out of the corner of his eyes. "Then what're we supposed to do! We can't fight electricity with magic! Energy absorbs energy!"

As if summoned by his cries, the sentient beams chasing both boys turned and headed towards each other. Cerberus yelped, quickly bridging the distance between them. Shaking with fright, he leapt behind his brother for protection. Their pursuers joined forces in midair, twisting and combining into one enormous electrical attack headed straight for the place where the pair sat sprawled on the ground.

"We're gonna _die!"_ Cerberus whined, shaking like a leaf against his sibling's back. Yue meanwhile bit his lip with frustration. No. They were not going down that easily. _Energy absorbs energy…_ He had one last idea—an insane idea! But all the same, he reasoned, it just _might_ do the trick!

Taking a deep, slow breath, Yue focused mind, soul, and sorcery. He reached deep within himself, feeling the core of his power pulsing deep beneath his breast. He rarely tried tapping so deep into his magic—there was rarely any need to!—but if this was going to succeed, then he had to try…! Calling up as much energy as he could, he blasted it outward in a bright, purple plume. It wrapped around the two boys like an enormous dome—a shield of power. And he had it up not a moment too soon.

The lightning struck—struck with monumental force. Yue groaned, drawing yet more magic to his fingertips. The Impact of the barrage threatened to shatter his little magic bubble, but the mage fought back with fierce determination. _Energy absorbs energy. _With difficulty, he managed it. The bolts struck the glowing surface one by one and dissipated, absorbed into its matrix. When the danger had passed, Yue released the shield, drawing as much of its power back inside him as he could manage. He had a feeling they would need it. Panting, he turned to his sibling, still standing petrified behind him. "Well," he panted dryly, "_that_ seemed to work."

"If I had any actual thumbs," a winded Cerberus gasped in reply, "I would definitely be biting one at you right now."

But before Yue had a change to say anything cheeky in response, a crack of thunder overhead made both boys recoil. A stupendous flash burst across the sky, raining down an entire shower of lightning bolts upon the landscape. Yue and Cerberus huddled together, Yue throwing his shield back over them as sparks erupted across the grounds. Cerberus screamed, his high-pitched cries muffled as he squeezed tightly to his brother's breast. A soft roaring sound erupted over the plains.

Yue peeked out over the bright crest of his sibling's fur. A terrible chill began tingling in the base of his spine. He didn't like that noise. That wasn't the roar of thunder. That was the roar of a candle as it burst into life. The roar of a stove on a cold winter's night. It was the silent, murmuring sound of…

"Fire." Yue whispered, staring glassy-eyed towards the horizon.

"What did you say?" Cerberus murmured, turning his nose away from his sibling's shirt. Yue stroked the beast's head, directing his gaze towards the forest's edge. Fire. A tall, crackling fire. Where the lightning had struck, the trees all around the manor were bursting into a monstrous orange glow. It surrounded them on all sides, lighting up the night with a burning luminance. They were completely surrounded. Winds swirled around the boys' ankles, twisting over the woods, fanning more and more sparks into ignition. Soon all of the grounds would be consumed!

The tingle in Yue's spine became a leaden weight. He knew why the storm was doing this. He knew its plan!

"It's trying to break the circle!" the mage shouted, launching to his feet as flames half a mile high leapt up from the trees. "Come on, we've got to put out the blaze!"

Cerberus hesitated for only a second and cast a furtive glance back towards the manor. They could barely see their master anymore, but for a tiny silhouette upon the rooftop. His little shape thrashed and ran about his platform, clearly dodging more of the same electrical onslaughts they were faced with. The lion's eyes lingered on his figure for a moment, and Yue suspected he could understand the concern that was hiding behind his gaze. Clow was not a warrior. True, the two of them were relatively young and untrained yet, but at least they were conditioned. They were trained for this. Clow's daily dose of exercise and endurance was walking up the stairs to his study.

But they didn't have time to worry about Clow. They had to keep the circle intact or he had _no_ chance. None of them did! The man himself had said that he must face this threat on his own… there was nothing they could do to help him.

"Come on, Cerberus," Yue called again, "before more lightning comes."

For a moment longer, the beast still did not move. Then, lamely, he nodded and trotted after his brother towards the burning forests.

…

Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Clow was airborne.

As the sound of energy upon solid stone roofing rang through the night, he flew across the skies in a most disorganized fashion. Tumbling head over heels, he felt the wind and rain slapping at him from every direction. Vaguely, the sorcerer wondered if he had really though all this through. In retrospect, it certainly seemed that he had made a few key miscalculations. Flying through the air was chief among them. Especially because, unlike Cerberus, he didn't have any damn wings to be flying _with!_

Clow slammed into the rooftop after several seconds of twisting and turning. He struck face first upon the slick surface and felt a shooting pain race immediately through his flesh. Several things made a sickening cracking sound, and the sorcerer was greeted by the sensation of hot liquid splattering down his chin. He coughed heartily, spitting out chunks of blood as it streamed freely from his broken nose. But he did not have time to examine his injury properly.

As a second strike blasted the roof, mere feet behind him, Clow's body continued to roll with momentum. He thrashed limbs out on all sides—hands, arms, legs, feet! Anything and everything to stop him from rolling! But none of it was enough. Even as desperate fingers dug into the roof tiles, they were not enough to stop him. Each time his grip was torn away—and occasionally a fingernail or two along with it—and Clow continued to slide off the roof, crashing time and time again over the same bruised ribs, the same shattered face. A dark red stain smeared over the rain-washed tiles in his wake.

"_Spirit of Storms…" _he muttered weakly in a last-ditch effort, "_Seal_…"

With another strike of lightning, the wizard felt the manor shake beneath him yet again, and bullets of debris pounded at his unguarded skin. In one final blast of wind and rain and lightning, the storm sent him hurtling off the edge of the roof altogether.

A scream pierced the night as the thunder rumbled overhead—Clow's scream, a shriek of fright and pain. And he was in the skies again, limbs flailing in every direction as he soared head over heels. But this time he was not falling back to the hard and unforgiving rooftop. No, this time he was falling to his _death! _The sorcerer's heart was hammering so fast now that he could not even count the beats! Pounding against his chest—as if it feared its own demise as much as he did!—it felt like a single, constant pressure against his aching ribs. Unrelenting. Unyielding. Clow's head was spinning. A flurry of lights and colors danced before his eyes, blocking out any view of the clouds rumbling above. He was beginning to feel terribly dizzy: from the pain, from the exhaustion, from the monster hammering beneath his breast, choking the life out of him. He was not even aware that he was falling anymore…

The world began to spin….

Into…

darkness…

…

…

A trembling hand made one last swipe through the air, seemingly of its own accord. Numb, bleeding fingers gripped the very edge of the roof and clung for dear life. At once, Clow's world burst into full-color again.

He stopped falling.

…

…

A scream of pain shook the burning trees all around the manor.

Clow screeched until his throat was torn raw—screeched without restraint as his shoulder was quite nearly torn from its socket. The spots of light and dark clouds burst before his eyes again, but this time the wizard would not let himself retreat into darkness. His fingers, wounded but steadfast clung to the tiles for dear life. The man gasped and panted for breath, every fiber of his being shaking and pulsing with agony. But he would not let himself give in. He _could _not!

As another bolt of lightning struck the rooftop, Clow felt his grip waver. He bit down on his tongue as his sore fingers and shoulder exploded with another wave of pain. He could not stay like this forever. Somehow, he had to get back atop the manor. His raw and tender face protesting heartily, the wizard gripped his staff in his teeth. He strained, trying to reach up to the ledge with his other hand. But before he could do little more than scratch the edge of the tiles, the storm shook the roof again. Clow gasped, his hold nearly broken. His second hand fell away, and he remained dangling limply by one arm off the side of the house.

All right, so _that_ clearly was not the way.

The sorcerer strained, trying to will his one gripping arm to pull the rest of him up! …But he simply did not have the upper-body strength. Hell, he doubted if even _Yue_ would have had the upper body strength to pull of such a maneuver! He cursed softly under his breath, fingers trembling under all the stress. There _had_ to be a way! He wouldn't be able to dangle like this much longer!

Just as the man's desperation was reaching its peak, he felt something pulse violently against his breast. For one terrifying moment, Clow thought wildly that perhaps his pounding heart _had_ beaten its way through his ribs! But the next second, his sense returned to him. No, it was not his heart. It was something stored in his cloak pocket. Staff still held tightly between his teeth, the warlock reached down and undid the button. He was greeted by the smooth, papery surface of a deck of cards. His pulse leapt with hope. Of course! The cards! Numb fingers clumsily filed through them, looking for one spirit in particular. He wouldn't be able to look down. He would have to merely sense the card he wanted and pray that he was right.

No sooner had the thought it than a cool, calming aura radiated up his arm from the deck. That was the one. That was the card. Gripping it with two fingers, Clow tossed his chosen high into the storm. Swinging around with surprising haste, he wrenched his staff out of his jaw. Whirling it around, he cried: _"WINDY!"_

His hold on the roof failed.

In the space of a heartbeat, fingers slipped upon the tile. A grumble of thunder cut the air. For a moment more, Clow was suspended in midair…

And then he was falling…

Falling…

Falling…

Hurtling toward the unforgiving Earth at alarming speed.

The wizard squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to watch the ground approaching. He didn't want to know how many seconds of life he would have after his body struck ground. He didn't want to know how many lightning flashes he could count before his vision faded to black.

Calmly, he fell through the skies, feeling the wind lapping at him from all sides. He waited patiently for the wave of pain to overcome him—a flash of pain and then an eternity of darkness. With the Power of Darkness coursing through him, perhaps he would feel at home there, in the abyss…

But the pain never came. He had tumbled through the air for what felt like an eternity, the wind spiraling around his limp body. But still, he had not yet hit the ground. Not that he was _impatient_ for his impending death, but this was becoming a bit anti-climactic. Despite himself, Clow peeked one eye open and peered out into the night.

To his surprise, he discovered that he was not in fact falling at all!

"Windy!" the sorcerer gasped, relief spilling over him like a floodgate as his eyes fell upon the serene, violet wind spirit. Windy smiled softly, as if laughing at her master. Clow spun about on his platform of air, glancing all around him. He could still see the ground stories below and the dark, swirling heavens above, but neither of them was becoming any nearer. He was suspended somewhere in between by a cushion of purple, translucent smoke, which was billowing all around him. What he had thought was the night air racing past as he hurtled to his death was actually streams of misty wind wrapped all around him, gently stopping his fall. "Thank you, Windy," He panted with genuine gratitude, "Now, back to the roof please."

The wind sprit nodded and, with a rush of wind, Clow found himself being gracefully rushed back above the heart of Reed Manor. He stepped down lightly upon the tiles, Windy's magic supporting his aching body until he was standing securely on his feet. Then, with a peck on the cheek, she returned to her card form. His fingers fumbling again with his cloak pocket, he stored her safely away with her fellows. He _knew_ those cards were going to come in handy again this evening! The exhausted sorcerer took a moment to catch his breath. His ribs were terribly sore and throbbing where he had struck the roof earlier. Fat clots of blood were still dribbling down his face from his broken nose. Reaching up, he wiped them away with the sleeve of his robes and turned to face his foe. Every sinewy cell of his body was screaming at him to quit now. To stop this torture! But he could not listen to the wants of the flesh—not tonight. Not if he wanted to succeed…

He took one last glance off to the north, to where the boys had last been fighting their own bouts of lightning. But to Clow's surprise, the situation had changed entirely whilst he had been trying to save himself from falling. The manor was now completely surrounded on all sides by a raging ring of fire. The wizard's breath caught in his chest. The circle of salt. If it was burned away, then their spell would break! There would be nothing to hold the storm here above the manor! In the distance, he could see a pair of dark figures dashing before the flames. One running on two legs, the other galloping on four. His sons were clearly trying to put out the blaze. Reaching back into his pocket, Clow withdrew another card. "Watery!" he called, striking it with his staff, "Go and help them put out the fires!"

In an explosion of mist and rain, the mermaid-like water spirit burst into life. Curtly, she nodded her understanding to Clow, and immediately zoomed off towards the smoldering forest. It was all the old sorcerer could do to wish them luck. He had his hands full enough up here. Sadly, the boys were on their own. He forced himself not to think of his nightmare from the eve before.

As the clouds grumbled above, he raised his staff into the night. There was nothing for it but to try again. "_Spirit of Vengeance!" _he cried, guessing wildly at the storm's characteristics, _"SEAL!"_

The rays of the staff flashed. The tarot cards on the roof twitched. But still, the storm did not comply. With a crack of thunder, Clow found himself diving out of the way of yet another onslaught of lightning.

…

The sounds of smoldering fire and crackling embers filled the woods.

It was also filled with a good deal of smoke.

Yue coughed, panting for breath as another dark cloud was blown over him. At his rear, an enormous wall of flame was raging, the trees upon which it burned not even visible through the blaze. The lion standing rooted before it almost looked tiny by comparison.

Yue wheezed again, throwing up his shield as a powerful bolt of lightning shot through the canopy at them. It struck with considerable force and Yue, weakened from breathing in the smoke and soot, felt his knees buckle beneath him. But his shield did not fall. As the attack crackled and absorbed into it, he called his energies back, gasping twice as hard at the air. "Hurry up, Cerberus," he croaked hoarsely, forcing himself back to his feet. "We can't stay in here much longer or we'll suffocate."

"I'm trying!" the cub shouted back, affixing his brother with an accusing glare. "This isn't easy, you know!"

"Fire is _your_ element," Yue hissed weakly, scanning the skies. "Just tell it to blow out."

"Oh yeah, it's all so simple!" Cerberus yelled with malice, turning back to the flames. "Why don't you get back here and try it then? Your element is water!"

Drawing up yet more of his power, Yue threw up another shield over the pair, protecting them from another lightning bolt. "Fine," he spat, panting with effort. "And presumably you'll come take over here, will you? Focus, Cerberus. You can do this. Besides, it would take me a hell of a lot more energy to put it out with water than it will take you to just order it away…"

The beast frowned, but went back to squinting at the roaring fire. His face was so wracked with concentration, that his entire body shook. But no matter how hard he tried to focus his mind, the blaze did not so much as twitch.

Elsewhere on the lawn, the Watery card was making excellent progress against the fires. The three of them had worked together for a long time, Yue's magic doubling the card's extinguishing power. Already they had reduced most of the powerful fires to nothing more than smoldering embers upon the ground. The circle around Reed Manor was still holding. But there was infinitely more work to be done, and the storm was getting wise to their tactics. It had resumed its barrage of energy attacks with new ferocity. So much power it took to block their strikes that Yue and Watery had had to part ways. The storm could apparently not hurt the other cards, but as for their _guardians_… Needless to say, the boys had decided that Watery would be fine on her own. The two of them, meanwhile, were barely surviving under Yue's strained shields.

Which brought them to Cerberus.

Yue sighed. Over the years, he had learned to tolerate the lion. Hell, he might even go so far as to say he _loved_ the little bastard. Certainly living together was no longer the battleground it had once been. Most nights, he merely accepted his brother's eccentricities as a mildly-amusing saga—the fool character in their otherwise dramatic play. But tonight, he was not willing to put up with his sibling's meekness. It had been over two years now since the pair of them had been brought into this world. In that time, Yue had spent his days and nights training himself—body, mind, and magic alike—so that he would be prepared when one day he needed those skills on the battlefield. Truthfully, that was probably the only thing that had saved them so far this evening. But Cerberus…

While he had grown large and mighty, the beast had yet to do more than lightly brush upon his powers. He didn't know how to use them. He scarcely understood what they were or how he could apply them to his advantage. He ran about the lawn like a giant buffoon and now, when he was truly needed, he couldn't even be bothered to put out a simple fire.

Yue was snapped viciously out of his thoughts as a mighty clap of thunder resounded overhead. "Cerberus, _now!_" he hissed as he threw his shield back around them. The mage stood his ground, watching the flashes in the sky as they organized above him. He couldn't tell if Cerberus was heeding his warnings or not. He panted at the air, wheezing as clouds of smoke billowed over him. His throat was tight now from the repeated irritation. Every muscle—both flight and terran—twitched and heaved about his chest, trying to force enough fresh air into his starving body. But despite their efforts, he could already feel his strength waning, his vision beginning to blur.

His shields faltered.

As the sparkle of lightning shined in the distance, Yue forced his senses to reach deeper into the core of his magic—to his very soul! With all the strength of will he had left in him, the young mage forced every ounce of power he could into the shimmering dome. It resolidified just in time to receive the barrage from the heavens above.

Yue wavered beneath the strain as three separate bolts struck his shields. With all his might, he forced the waves of energy to stay upright—to absorb the attack.

But it was not enough.

As the lightning consumed his shield, it exploded with a crack of energy and shattered all around him.

The mage recoiled, hissing in pain as hot tendrils of electricity burst through his shield and seared at his flesh. Collapsing to the ground, he grasped his hands, which had been held aloft to sustain the energy shell. Doubling over, he snuggled them close to his core, pain like hot needles shooting up both of his arms.

"Yue!" Cerberus shouted somewhere off to his side, his voice shrieking with concern. But his brother could not answer him. He could not force himself to form the words. All that came out were soft moans of agony as he clutched tightly to his burned arms.

Apparently filled with new resolve, the beast turned back to the flames. Stopping a massive paw upon the ground, he let out a mighty roar. The trees, the ground, the entire forest shook with the force of the noise—of the magic. The flames that had burned so brilliantly moments before flickered, and then died away in a puff of smoke.

"I'm all right," Yue mumbled as the little lion rushed to his side. "I think it just burned me a bit…"

His entire body still trembled from the strike, flesh, nerves, skin all still leaping with pain. But the mage forced himself to uncurl his arms, and held them aloft for his brother's examination. Red, irregular stripes chased up both his limbs. His hands were completely covered in shining, red blisters—some of them stacked atop each other several layers deep! Despite Yue's assurances that they were minor burns, trickles of blood flowed freely all the way down the warlock's arms. They had stained his shirt a terrible crimson where he had held his wounds close to his breast.

"Let's get out of here!" the lion suggested urgently, helping his sibling to his feet. There was something flickering behind the creature's eyes—some sort of knowledge that Yue clearly did not possess. Some reason he was eager to take his injured brother back to the manor. Furtively, Yue thought of his promise to Clow—his promise to not get hurt. Perhaps the pair of them had taken precautions against his will…

Frustrations aside, the two boys dashed out of the ashen trees and back onto the lawn.

But they had scarcely a chance to even look around for more fires before the pair of mages were both forced to throw themselves out of the way of a sudden lightning attack. A bolt straight form the heavens struck the ground just behind them, showering the boys with a fine layer of upturned dirt. Rolling onto his back, Yue watched in horror as all new onslaughts of flashing energy exploded all across the lawn, igniting new fires where they had only just extinguished them.

"The storm's making another barrage!" he shouted frantically at his partner. But Cerberus wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance, south, towards the manor. But before he could ask what exactly the beast was staring at, a scream pierced the night. Clow's scream. Echoing down from the roof of Reed Manor.

Yue snapped his head around so quickly that his neck gave a painful twinge. Both boys stared off into the distance, watching the rooftop as their weak, defeated master struggled back to his feet, staff flailing limply at his side. Raising it to the heavens again, he shouted into the storm for what must have been the hundredth time that night. His words were gargled by the distance between them, but whatever guess the man had made at the cards' identities, it had clearly failed yet again. A moment later, his tiny figure disappeared once more beneath a mighty horde of lightning bolts.

"Come on!" Yue shouted, turning back to his brother. He grabbed the beast by the shoulder, trying desperately to drag his gaze away from the battle on the rooftop, though there was a terrible sinking sensation forming in his breast. "We have to put out the fires or he's got _no_ chance!"

_A loud clap of thunder suddenly erupted in the silent, peaceful glade._

"But he's in trouble!" Cerberus shrieked in reply, trying to tear his paw out of his sibling's grasp. Exhausted, and still badly injured by the lightning strike, it did not take much for Yue's grip to falter.

_It echoed like the cannon fire of an entire invading army._

"Only Clow can seal the cards," Yue retorted, wincing in pain as he drew his wounded hands back to his chest. "He's got to do this on his own!"

_It tore at the air and wrenched at the soul._

"But they're _our_ cards!" the lion protested viciously, "And we're supposed to be a _team!_"

_Darkness instantly consumed the valley._

"Which is exactly why Clow told us to work _together_ and keep the magic circle intact!" Yue shouted in reply, but Cerberus no longer seemed to be listening.

The little cub's eyes were looking southward again, fixated on Clow. Truthfully, he had wanted to rush off to his master all night—ever since the circle had been laid. Yue could see it in his eyes. But this was not the time! Not when he needed the beast here! Wordlessly, the lion released his wings. "Well," he whispered, "I'm going to help him."

"Cerberus, no!"

_Claps of thunder continued to roll overhead. The war in the skies carried on._

"Sorry, Yue, but seeing as you're grounded…" the lion muttered over his shoulder, "I guess you'll have to put out the fires by yourself." And without a single word more, he launched off the ground in a great flap of feathers.

_And there was nothing._

"Cerberus!" Yue shouted as he was forced to duck and roll away from a sudden lightning strike, but the beast was not paying any attention to his brother. He was already high in the skies, his eyes set on Clow. "Cerberus, don't leave me here! You're supposed to be my cover from the—!"

_Lightning flashed._

Yue Reed did not even have a chance to finish his sentence before the thing he had most dreaded came hurtling down out of the skies. For a split second, the flashing in the skies was frozen in time and the young mage watched as bolts formed above him, high in the heavens. Not one this time. Many. Many bolts of powerful, unyielding lightning.

Before he could even so much as think, they struck.

A scream wrenched across the night. High. Shrieking. It was a blood-curdling scream that made even the blazing fires tremble upon the trees. A scream of pain. A scream…

Of death.

The glow of the lightning ignited the entire sky, consuming all the land in its light as well as its victim.

Atop the roof, Clow halted immediately, his heart all but stopping within his breast. No, he thought desperately as the light overtook him. No! This was his vision! This was—!

And suddenly it all made sense.

The dream was brought to fruition.

They had _not_ prevented their disaster.

The bolts of lightning struck the poor child in their midst…

…

And Yue Reed's scream echoed even over the thunder.

_AN: And __that's__ where I leave you hanging! :D Aren't I evil? So despite all Clow's efforts, it looks like he wasn't able to stop his vision after all. But am I really that cruel? Would I really spend all these chapters telling you about everyone's fears for Yue's safety—all their nightmares—and then just unceremoniously make them so? I mean, my goodness, I would really have to hate his character to torment him so! Or, on the other hand, am I perhaps even more evil an author? And I am really just deceiving you all? Which is it? Leave your best guesses in the reviews. ;) By the way, if anyone else started singing Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash in the second half of this piece, you are not alone. :3 I actually turned it on Youtube and jammed out while I was editing the end of this. In all honesty, I hate writing high-action scenes because there is really no place for my usual poetic descriptions and rhetorical devices—not if I want any feeling of movement anyway. :(But I got through it, and hopefully the next chapter will be easier for me. _

_I'm going to get started on ch 20 right now. I wrote all of this ch 19 at work, and I'm still stuck here another 3 hours, so hopefully I can at least get a working outline up. ;) I know you guys must hate me for torturing you with all the suspense this chapter, but I do think you'll like the next one. And I personally can't wait to write it! It starts off with a strange, dream-sequence-esque intro that might be tricky to write, but other than that, I expect it will flow out rather easily. :3 I've been planning it for so long!_

_A few notes: _

"_More alchemy than chemistry"- The time in which this arc of Rooster is set is really the first time scientists began to distinguish between the science of chemistry and the more macabre art of alchemy. It's fitting that the good doctor walks the line between them. ;) _

_Opium- Opium had been well known as a painkilling drug for some time in Europe, but had only been rediscovered after several decades of falling 'taboo' or unpopular. Laudanum was a popular pill of the time that contained opium as well as other substances and was prescribed for just about everything. _

_Lighting- Hawkins' description of lightning is accurate. Lighting is special among methods of electrocution because, while it is powerful, it is also brief. While it does usually overwhelm and stop the heart, this is usually not permanent. In the case of lightning strike more than any other, the heart usually restarts itself after a short time. Unfortunately, lightning also causes severe internal burns and paralyses the diaphragm, preventing the victim from breathing and finishing them off without medical intervention. _

_Thee, Thou, and Ye- I chose to write Rooster in modern English, but once in a while (especially with spells) I can't help but throw a little Elizabethan in, since Clow and company would really be speaking Early Modern English throughout this piece. Early Modern English featured a lot less 'thee's and 'thou's and was a lot more recognizable by our standards, but the older forms were still well known. When using the second person plural, the informal 'thou' has to be switched to the plural 'ye' because there was no informal plural second person pronoun in Shakespearean English. It is for that reason that I found places to switch to the singular in the spell so that Cerberus and Yue could drop a few 'thou's and thus express their dominion over the cards they are addressing. _

_Electricity- Electricity was only just being discovered and was still poorly understood at this time in history. Most science wouldn't learn that lightning is electricity for almost another century. Yue, being astute (and being plot-convenient) figured that out for us a bit early here. _

_Biting thumbs- To bite one's thumb at a person was an old expression to more or less tell them to piss (or in this case, 'fig') off. It was a very old obscene hand gesture and is often seen in Shakespeare. It looked just like you might imagine. :3_

_Read and review please! It will make me write faster if you do! Status updates will be posted on my profile as usual._


	21. Bonus Ch2: Prologue to The Storm

**Four Months Before the Golden Rooster**

_**Part Four: Card Games**_

**Bonus Chapter #2: The Three Ravens**

There was something twinkling in the night sky—but it wasn't the stars, it wasn't even lightning.

_Lightning… why on earth would he even be thinking of lightning?_

It was snow. Soft, sparkling snow. It shimmered like a million tiny pixies as it drifted its way, spiraling, towards the Earth. Something about it was hypnotic, calming. He wasn't entirely sure when he had begun watching it fall, but now that he had done, the sorcerer found it difficult to tear himself away. He couldn't even be certain how long it had been coming down—or indeed, how long it had been winter! For some reason, his memory was foggy. Perhaps it was because of the snow: because of the compelling way it sparkled as it blew across an inky sky. Yes, this old sorcerer had never felt more at peace with the world around him than he did now, and here. Here, with the snow softly falling. With both his breath and the chill fogging the windows. He couldn't imagine a time he would have felt any differently…

Anxiety. Had he ever felt anxiety? But then, what was there even to be anxious about? After all, they lived in a place crafted by the most merciful of gods—that was what the local Englishmen said. And how ever could such a benevolent power allow bad things to happen? The world was perfect. Nothing ever went awry. It was, truly, _the best of all possible worlds_.

The sound of creaking wood echoed from somewhere just behind the solitary sorcerer, but he did not wince; he did not turn around. Gentle footfalls were so graceful as they approached that they were more akin to those of mice than of men. Still standing motionless beside the panes of glass, the wizard heard the floorboards whine as his companion lifted himself up onto his toes, stretching to reach his elder. A pair of pale, thin arms—nearly as white as the snow itself—snaked their way around the wizard's shoulders. Soft lips kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"There you are," a husky voice purred in his ear. "I've been looking for you, you naughty boy."

"Looking for me?" the older man repeated over his shoulder, eyes still fixed upon the weather. "How curious. I cannot imagine why anyone would be seeking me so urgently. I am no one of consequence."

There was a small huff from his side and, in an instant, the lovely hunter whirled around to face his prey. The glow off the powder so easily became him. Long tresses of silvery hair glimmered in the moonlight. They sparkled around the boy's small body like his own private snowstorm—just as soft, just as lovely, and just as hypnotic. Skin fairer than that of any courtly lady shone like the snowy lawn. "Clow Reed," he pouted in the same silky tone, "you take me for a fool! To call yourself inconsequential…"

The man called 'Clow' smiled, unable to help himself. "My apologies," he replied with a flourish, "I didn't mean to offend." All the while he spoke, he continued to watch the snow trickle down from the sky, as if unable to look away.

The little nymph at his side put on a rather convincing pout. "Your words don't offend nearly so much as your eyes," he huffed, all the while slinking his arms back around his elder's neck. He settled himself precariously against the windowsill, leaning his body ever closer to his quarry's. Clow felt a shiver shoot up his spine as a pair of strong, slender thighs slid along his own. The blond smirked with satisfaction. "You think she's prettier than me, don't you?" he exclaimed, tossing his head to the side and staring back out the window. His voice rose and fell melodically: a beautifully mocked whine.

For a moment, Clow hadn't the faintest idea what the boy was talking about—and didn't particularly care, either! He watched his charge's long, flowing hair glitter upon the air as it whipped around, following its owner's sudden turn of face. He stared mesmerized as it sparkled and fell gracefully back into place. Suddenly all other thoughts were wiped from his mind. The allure of the snowy night was completely forgotten. He could remember nothing more than delicate white skin, glowing violet eyes, and silken snow-lit tresses. Surely nothing else had existed for him before that.

"Nothing could be prettier than you, Yue," Clow muttered in reply, still watching a lock of silver hair as it settled itself back around the boy's throat. He watched it flutter against his child's skin as if tousled by a small unseen wind. Truly, he could imagine nothing more beautifully crafted; the gods had done their very best with this one. "You are my alpha" he breathed, "and my omega."

"Converting to the cult of Artemis, are you?" Yue toyed, cracking a sly smile.

Clow chuckled. "If such a thing still existed in this world," he whispered, bowing his head until his brow could rest lovingly between Yue's collarbones, "I swear I would join it in a heartbeat."

Yue arched his back against his elder's sweet embrace. His lower body pushed up off the window sill, pressing up against Clow's own until there was scarcely space for air between them. "But heartbeats vary," he moaned softly into his master's hair, burying his face deeply into its messy ebony locks. "Tell me: what kind would your conversion be? Slow, like a man at rest? Or fast, like racing the heart of a lover?"

"Oh gods, let it be the lover!" Clow cried longingly. In one massive movement, he whipped his arms around Yue's sides, gripping him firmly and tightly with limbs thick as a bear's. He pulled himself up at once—nearly dragging his charge off the ground!—and crashed them both back against the hard pains of the window. Yue gasped, throwing his head back as a pair of powerful hips thrust forcefully against his own. Flesh upon flesh crashed into unyielding rock, mercilessly cold glass. Clow seized his opportunity. Gripping the young boy hard about the shoulders, he dragged him up into a deep and passionate kiss.

But it did not last long. With a pang, the sorcerer felt his charge grow tense beneath him. Clow felt his heart hammering like a schoolboy's when they quickly parted again. Yue paused for air, throwing himself back like a frightened maiden. But he did not draw away—he did not seek to squirm himself out of his companion's touch. He glanced at his elder, wide-eyed, his amethyst irises sparkling strangely. His heavy breath fluttered upon Clow's lips like the wing beats of a butterfly.

Then, without a moment's hesitation, he threw himself back into his master's embrace, returning his kiss with such vigor that now it was Clow's turn to gasp! His body slinked and pulsed beneath the older wizard's, undulating against him like a rolling wave. Intertwined in a hot mess of flesh and hair and sweaty cloth, their aching bodies crashed into each other, parted, and found one another again in a variety of new and varied places. Each touch like lightning! Each brief moment of contact stinging like a thousand pinpricks! And still, they did not release! They seemed to have no need to breathe anymore. The cold radiating in through the snowy window did not even penetrate.

White-hot light was filling Clow's head—filling it so fully that for a moment, he almost felt as if it was consuming his vision as well! Light. Flashing, striking, burning! For a split second, he could almost see it—see it there before him!

Lightning… Pain like a thousand needles… there was something about that he should remember. But whatever it was, it mattered not to Clow Reed. Not now. Not here. Whatever might have been lingering in his soul, it was gone from his mind.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Clow at last pulled away, gasping for breath as if he had just run the journey to marathon.

"Welcome to the temple," Yue cooed, breathing with only slightly less ease—as if he was merely on a nighttime stroll! He nuzzled playfully up to Clow one final time, lips lightly fluttering down the side of his lover's throat. The sorcerer felt like he could melt away right then and there—melt like snow! At some point, the young mage's arms had fallen away from his master's shoulders. Clow could feel them moving somewhere up against his chest, desperately unbuttoning the front of their owner's vest.

"And what a lovely temple it is!" The wizard breathed, dragging Yue into another deep and impassioned kiss. The hands froze in their work, plastered and immovable between their pair of heaving breasts. But this time they did not stay so long, and after several heavy seconds, their lips broke away with a tiny whine. Yue leaned back against the window for support, momentarily stunned with pleasure and love and the heat of the moment. Clow took advantage of his daze, tearing the remainder of the buttons away from their holders. He ripped the garment off Yue's shoulders with surprising force; the young mage sighed with approval as it crumpled to the floor at their feet.

"It's sacred too, you know," he panted as Clow pressed hard against him and lay a string of vicious kisses down his neck, "holy."

"Is it now?" the wizard gasped, lifting his head only to come up for air. His gaze immediately fell on Yue's sparkling violet eyes, misted over with thick emotion, but still breathtakingly beautiful. Slowly, he felt himself sink lower on his charge's delicate body. Those eyes… He truly did feel as if he should be reverent beneath those eyes. He nuzzled his head lovingly against Yue's abdomen; the warmpth of another body so near was all the more prominent in the cold of the night. He pulled lightly away, and fingered with the soft fabric that had just lain beneath his cheek. With the utmost gentleness, he untucked the base of Yue's shirt from around his waist and rolled it carefully up. Milky white flesh shimmered as it was borne into the radiant moonlight. The rest of his body giving way, Clow planted a long, loving kiss lowly upon the hem of his lover's breeches, where cloth met tender skin. The mage's entire body pulsed as with an electric shock, and he let out a small gasp of surprise. But his hurried breathing quickly fell away to sighs of ecstasy, and Clow felt himself not afraid to press on.

_Lightning… like lightning…_

"Holy indeed," he muttered with veneration, letting his cheek brush against cool, snow-white flesh of Yue's exposed abdomen. "Tell me, how can I gain admittance? Will you take a sinner like me?"

Yue said nothing at first, but his arms slid down his sides, and a moment later, Clow felt the cool touch of long-fingered hands upon his shoulders. Gently, they bid him rise. The wizard's head shot up at once, and he found himself, humbled upon the ground, staring up once again into those sparkling violet eyes. Gradually, he began to stand, following the guidance of the incontrovertible beauty before him. Around them, the snowflakes whirled against the window pane—as if they were really here, as if these two were truly out there, standing among them…

"Well," Yue whispered at last, when Clow was half way out of his kneel, "First, you have to be baptized." The cool hands slinked now around Clow's own and, under Yue's direction, the pair of them grasped at the free edges of the mage's thin, cotton shirt. The wizard watched—body racing, but mind dull—and as he rose from the ground, so too the garment rose higher and higher off the young boy's flesh. When Clow at last was standing steadily on his two feet again, the blond released him and lifted his arms gracefully above his head. With a silent swoop, the pale material was cast over and away from him altogether.

Sighing, his head spinning like a top, Clow took a step back and admired his handiwork. Yue leaned back against the glass, his entire upper body heaving heavily. He stretched his arms out to either side, running them desperately against the cold stone of the window frame. He was now completely bare above the waist, and his breeches, having been loosened and shifted with in all the commotion, were slowly falling even lower to the crest of his hips. Wisps of fine, silver hair curled lightly over their crest, tauntingly; they glistened with the rest of him like a long arrow tempting towards all that remained hidden.

Clow looked him over greedily, soaking up every inch of his porcelain frame. Yue was not so delicate as he appeared—Clow had known that already, but every time he relished in the rediscovery. He was thin and slight, but he was strong. There was not an inch of the mage's flesh these days that did not betray the warrior's constitution, growing within him. His skin was such a peerless white that it almost glowed with blinding glare like the snowfall around him. His curtains of hair had long ago fallen from their bind, and were now rippling everywhere—plastered over sweat-kissed flesh, clinging to the steamy panes of the window, swirling in great cascades across the floorboards. They sparkled in ways that a thousand snowflakes could not rival. Once again, Clow felt his knees growing weak.

"You _are _a temple," he moaned faintly, "and you _are _holy…" his voice trailed away, lost in the awe and reverence that consumed him.

But this time, Yue would not let him fall. Before the wizard had even the chance to begin his descent, a familiar pair of milky limbs snaked around him; he drew the shaking sorcerer into a deep embrace. The window panes creaked and groaned in protest as the weight of two full bodies pressed against them, but neither man paid them any mind. Lovingly, Yue wrapped his arms tightly—protectively—around his lover's upper body, cradling Clow's tired face snugly to his breast. He hugged them so tightly together that Clow thought wildly they might never be parted—merged together into one another: fair and tanned, calloused and unblemished, two flesh as one! Clow breathed deeply and slowly, trying with all his might to calm his own bounding nerves. At first, he could do little more than gasp, pant—the fever of passion still strangling him like a noose—but then as the seconds ticked by, he felt himself give in to the embrace.

Yes, everything was beautiful. Everything was perfect. A part of Clow could scarcely believe he was here now—with Yue, like this. How long had he waited? Dreamed? Fantasized? The real thing was more perfect than he ever could have imagined!

The best night in the best of all possible worlds. How could things ever have been differently?

How could anything ever…

…separate them…?

…

…

But at the same time—even though he felt it with every fiber of his being! At the same time that blissful ecstasy was running through the wizard's mind, at the same time that he was relishing the moment, at the same time he could not imagine darkness or fear or pain…!

At the same time, it was creeping in on him.

'Separate them'. Why would he even _think_ such a thing as that? If the thing was not possible! If the thing did not exist in this perfect world!

…how could a perfect world let him conceive of the idea?

…

…

And so he lay there, cradled against his lover's breast, taking in every sight and sound and scent and feeling his mortal form could bear. And for the most part, the passion from moments before still consumed him: beautiful, unblemished.

But somewhere, somewhere deep inside of the man, there was another storm beginning to stir again…

_Another storm…_

"So," Yue panted an eternity later, "why _were_ you looking out at the lawn?" His voice was slightly hoarse and still very thick with emotion, but to Clow, it was still the loveliest sound he could imagine just now. Not even the heavenly song of a child could have been sweeter.

_The song of a child…_

But something about that was wrong. For a split second, the room seemed to flash. Flash with what, Clow couldn't say, for it was gone before he'd even that chance to contemplate it. The elder wizard felt his stomach churn slightly, but he pushed it aside, dismissing the incident as if it had never happened.

"I don't know exactly," he answered at last, snuggling closer still to Yue's chest. "I was actually contemplating that when you came upon me…"

He held his partner tightly—tighter even than he had before. It was not the cold, not that wintery chill that he was escaping. He couldn't explain it. Everything was right here. Everything was perfect. This was exactly how things were supposed to be, so whatever could be the matter? But for some reason, Clow felt the need to cling—the need to hold onto this beautiful child in his arms as if, in the next second, he might not be there anymore. As if he might have been no more than a dream—a midsummer night's dream. As if Oberon, king of the fairies come to drip the dew of a flower upon his eyes and wake him from his fanciful vision.

_A mid-_summer_ night…_

He glanced out the window, but the scene beyond it did not seem quite so beautiful anymore—not quite so hypnotic. Now it looked flat and cold. He hugged himself ever closer to Yue's warm, inviting body. Delicate fingers combed his hair.

"It's all right," the mage offered lightly, "Were you watching… the storm?"

For another second, a jolt of fear struck deep into Clow's heart, and the room around him momentarily flashed with color: green grass, brown mud, a dark sky.

…_all new onslaughts of flashing energy exploded all across the lawn,_

_igniting new fires where they had only just extinguished them…_

"Wh-what did you say?" he asked, voice suddenly trembling. His knees now felt like giving way for an entirely different reason.

"The snowstorm," Yue replied easily, fingers pausing for a moment in their exploration.

"Oh," Clow sighed, a strange wave of relief rushing over him. "Of course." Desperately, the wizard tried to shake off the feeling of unease that was beginning to creep inside his breast. He couldn't imagine what else he could have been thinking about. A snowstorm, of course! The one raging outside just this second. What other storm could he possibly have been thinking of…? What did he have to be frightened about? Here in this best of all possible worlds? "Yes, I guess I must have been watching the snowstorm…" he muttered, looking back out the window.

Yue smiled, and glanced over his shoulder at the snowy scene as well. "Yes," he breathed, "It's lovely, isn't it?"

Clow nuzzled his face deeper against Yue's chest, chancing a glance back out the window himself. Yes, it did seem rather nice again now—though scarcely as breathtaking as the creature in his arms. But before he could think of anything charming to say on the subject, a sudden shot of cold rushed up the sorcerer's spine, as if the chill from the window was finally starting to strike him. The doubt—the moment of doubt—was still there, was still growing inside him…

And whatever it was, Yue seemed to have felt it too. The mage blinked, his eyes locked for a moment upon the snowdrifts beyond. But he was not staring out at the scenery. He seemed like a man possessed—hypnotized as his master had been by the strange allure of the lawn. When he spoke again, his voice seemed strangely dark and distant:

"So much nicer than the lawn really looks right now…"

Clow snapped his head up instantly, but Yue wasn't looking at him anymore; he was staring into the distance, face unreadable. And the fear—the fear that had only been a trickle, a murmur in a mighty wind!—now it was here, and real. Now it was palpable. Real, powerful fear!

…_The sounds of smoldering fire and crackling embers filled the woods…_

For a second, another flash of panic wracked Clow's body, and the room snapped momentarily into darkness. In the distance, he swore he could hear a clap of thunder.

…_Another clap of thunder rolled overhead, louder than it had been before. Nearer…_

"D-didn't you say you were looking for me for some reason?" Clow stuttered, stumbling messily out of Yue's embrace. He took several strides backwards, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the panes. From his new angle, the lawn did not seem so beautiful and white anymore. It was dark, inky black. He could see neither the arching white hills nor the twinkling flakes. The grounds were suddenly a great black mystery.

For a moment longer, the mage remained at the windowsill, gaze locked upon the piles of powder as if he could see something very interesting in their midst. His lips twitched into a small frown as he turned away. "Yes," he whispered, turning back to Clow's frightened face, "I came to see if you were ready to come back out to us…"

…_In the darkness of the storm, he could barely see two figures moving about amidst the rain…_

"B-back?" Clow stuttered. Instinctively, he began to retreat farther and farther away. For no good reason, his heart had begun to hammer against his breast. His palms were sweaty. His long flowing cloak stuck to his skin. But not with passion. This time, it was something else. It now seemed twice as heavy as it had before—heavy as if it was drenched with rainwater. As if they truly _had _been standing amidst that snowstorm! No… not a _snow _storm….He tripped over it as he continued backing towards the door.

"Back downstairs," Yue cooed in a sing-song voice. "Everyone's down there waiting. Hawkins, Cerberus. Everyone's here. Everyone's together. It's the best of all possible worlds, right?"

But something was not right anymore. Something was terribly—_terribly—_wrong! Yue's voice was as sweet and seductive as it had ever been, but somehow it didn't seem as natural anymore. As beautiful!

Perfect. It was all so perfect. Like his dreams. Like his fantasies.

"C-cerberus too?" Clow mumbled, his voice shaking like the winds against the panes. "Cerberus is downstairs?"

"Of course," Yue whispered, "All the way down. Out there…" With a flick of his head, he turned back towards the window, his long silvery hair swirling about him in a way that was not altogether realistic. How was it that every strand seemed to sway so perfectly? It was so beautiful, the way it swayed as if blown in the wind. But there was no wind. There had been no wind all this while…

…_The typhoon winds pounded down upon the trio of sorcerers._

_It tore like needles at their rain-soaked flesh._

_It threatened to rip away their sodden garments…_

Quietly—at first so quietly that Clow could scarcely hear it—Yue began to hum to himself as he watched the snowy glass. Words that haunted and tormented Clow

"_Down in yonder green field,"_ his soft tenor voice murmured upon the air, "_Down a down, hey down a down…"_

The room flashed again, dark green grass taking the place of the hard wooden floorboards. Mud, feet deep, splashed out across the lawn before him where a throw rug had been moments before. Thunder cracked overhead like the hoof beats of an approaching cavalry…

Lightning flashed…

And rain fell…

"_Down in yonder green field with a down!"_

And Yue, like the most solemn narrator, continued his siren song. The words echoing inside Clow's mind like a whole swarm of angry bees.

"Please," Clow whimpered, falling to his knees, his drenched cloak billowing around him on the floorboards.

"_Down in yonder green field,"_

But there were no floorboards. They were tiles. Roofing tiles! "Please don't do this!"

"_There lies a knight _

_**slain**_

'_**neath **_

_**his **_

_**shield**__…"_

"STOP THIS!"

…

…

Thunder cracked. Lightning flashed.

…

…

There was something twinkling in the night sky. It was snow. Soft, sparkling snow. It fell down from the sky in flurries so fast that Clow Reed could scarcely tell the one from the other. It was like a never-ending vision of white. Soft. Pure. White. He was watching it intently out his study window, unable to tear his gaze away. It was hypnotic, the snow. Its twinkling flakes had a special kind of allure that the old wizard could simply not explain—not even to himself. He didn't remember when he began watching them. He didn't remember how long it had been falling. Hell, he didn't even remember how long it had been _winter_!

The sound of creaking wood echoed from somewhere just behind the solitary sorcerer, but he did not wince; he did not turn around. Gentle footfalls were so graceful as they approached that they were more akin to those of mice than of men. A pair of thin arms snaked their way around his shoulders.

"There you are," a husky voice purred in his ear. "I've been looking for you, you naughty boy."

"Looking for me?" the older man repeated over his shoulder, eyes still fixed upon the weather. "Why ever would you be looking for me?"

His companion gave a little chuckle, hugging Clow tighter from behind. "I need your help with something," he whispered silkily.

"My help?" the sorcerer chided glancing down and taking hold of the soft arms that wrapped around him. "Whatever would you need my help for? I am no one of consequence…"

But something was wrong.

Clow's heart all but stopped within his breast.

As he held them in hand, he realized the limbs curled so lovingly around his neck were not of the smooth, unblemished flesh he had been expecting. Pale, flawless skin was reddened and cracked. Blisters burst and bubbled all up and down the young mage's wrists, leaking a clear watery fluid across the front of Clow's cloak. Think trickles of blood—some dried, some still flowing—cascaded all down the boy's hands. They were burned. Horribly burned!

The wizard stared in horror, releasing his grip at once. A few flesh blisters burst as he released them. He opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to find the voice to speak. To ask Yue what had happened! To ask who had hurt him so! But before he could say a word, his companion spoke yet again, his voice as calm as ever.

"You're the only one left who can help," he whispered, drawing his injured hands back to his sides. At once, Clow whirled around, following them back to their owner.

Yue stood only a few lengths behind him. His milky white skin shone like fresh snow in the moonlight, but it was caked here and there with dirt and bruises and tiny scratches. His long glittering hair was wrapped behind him in a plait that reached easily to his ankles; it was half undone, flyaway strands broken and muddy, stuck to his rain-washed flesh. He was not wearing his usual formality of dress, but was standing before Clow in little more than faded breeches and a thin white shirt—the latter soaked until it was nearly transparent. His creamy stockings were torn in multiple places.

But that was not what caught Clow's attention. Yue's hands were outstretched towards him, trembling as water and a thin red fluid streaked down them across his arms. A dark horrible stain was splattered all across his drenched, shaking body.

"Won't you help me get the blood out?" he whispered.

…

…

"_With a down! Derry, derry, derry down, down!"_

…

…

A scream wrenched across the night. High. Shrieking. It was a blood-curdling scream that made even the blazing fires tremble upon the trees. A scream of pain. A scream…

Of death.

The glow of the lightning ignited the entire sky, consuming all the land in its light as well as its victim.

Atop the roof, Clow collapsed to his knees, his dream world shattered completely as cacophonous thunder exploded overhead. He watched, unbelieving—unwilling to believe!—as the murderous bolts struck their target. Viscous streams of electricity exploded around the body in the air as it froze, mid-way off the ground. No, he thought desperately as the light overtook him. No! This was his vision! This was—! Slowly, he watched it begin to fall. Limp. Lifeless. No, he thought to himself. No! This _couldn't_ be happening!

How? HOW could it be happening?! He had seen everything—planned it! This was not supposed to—this _couldn't—_! They were supposed to be together forever! All three of them! How could a benevolent creator allow this to happen?! How could _he!? _How could he have failed so miserably!? How could he not have seen—not have known—?!

Yue Reed's scream echoed even over the thunder…

And the word he was screaming was:

"CERBERUS!"

* * *

_AN: This update was something I just thought of at the last minute as a sort of apology to my fans and a promise that I'm not dead. I was so eager after I wrote chapter 19 that I hurried into chapter 20 right away with rather significant zeal. But when chapter 19 didn't get great reviews… I think part of me just died a little. And when school stuff overwhelmed me last semester too… I lost all will to write and this chapter stopped cold. It's taken many months, but I've managed to drum up the inspiration to write again—a large part of it thanks to the return of an old friend and my new beta reader, Tifa Strifeheart. Now chapter 20 is underway, but I felt like I had to give you guys something in the meantime while I work on the second half. _

_As I said, this chapter had two introductions. I toyed with both lead-ins, not wanting to discard either one, but they simply were both too stand-alone to go together, and were making the chapter too long to boot. So, I decided that this one could be a stand-alone (although it was written in as scene 2 in my most recent draft). In fact, it almost works better that way, because now it follows the action of ch 19 immediately with all the psychotic glory. :3 (and also resolves its cliff hanger nicely. XP)_

_I'm not going to lie: a big reason for my posting this now was that I saw, in my time away, a writer whom I enjoy very much didn't post nearly as prolifically as I had expected. When I finally started reading through all her chapters I'd missed, I saw her AN that said she had been sad to find that none of the authors she usually read had been posting. I'm not so full of myself to assume that I make that list, but all the same, I wanted to post something to prove to her that we're all not dead out here, and some of us will be making comebacks soon! Hopefully I can explain myself to that one particular author in a proper review to her own fic tonight. This one's for you, Lady Dae. :)_

_Explanatory notes:_

"_The best of all possible worlds"—the key statement in the theory of Optimism promoted by baroque philosopher, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz—and later parodied famously by philosophe, Voltaire. The theory was that if God was all powerful, then anything he allowed to happen must be intended to happen or, for the good of the world, could happen no other way. Taken to the logical extreme by Voltaire who pointed out that if this world was the 'best of all possible' ones, a lot of bad things sure did seem to happen. In this case Clow does the same: if this is the best of all possible worlds, then nothing bad can happen, right?_

"_the alpha and the omega"— an Greek term for God. Alpha was the first letter of the alphabet, and omega the last. Thus it means to say that God is all. In this case, it's a play since Clow is talking about lunar deities and this was usually applied to the Abrahamic god. _

_Oberon and the fairies—a reference to Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. The plot of the play involved Oberon, king of the fairies, trying to publically embarrass his wife by making her fall in love with an embarrassing figure. He did this to deflate her ego and get himself a bit more dominance as ruler, and intended to carry it out with the dew of a magic flower that, when applied to a sleeping person's eyelids, made them fall in love with the first person they saw. A second drop would break the spell. _


	22. IMPORTANT NOTICE ABOUT CH16!

I am SO sorry everyone! I _am_ over half way done with the new chapter now and am actually thinking I will be done soon and ready to post it for real!

**But this is important!**

While double checking the year for the setting of Chapter 20, I came across the posted version of Chapter 16-and realized with horror that the WRONG version of that file had been posted all those many months ago! The version that _was_ posted here on the site was an earlier, unfinished draft and as such, it had no ending! The entire final 7,000 words of the chapter-which were the whole POINT of said chapter and the only way the following chapter made any sense at all!-were missing! I don't know if this is how I initially posted the chapter or not, but if there are any of you out there reading this who don't remember Yue's vision of the future and/or his crash on his last flying attempt-if there is anyone out there who remembers thinking that the opening of Chapter 17 seemed really odd, then PLEASE go back and read Chapter 16! I have just posted the _correct_ version now. I implore you to go read the proper version if you have not already, because else-wise you are missing a rather large and important plot point. :/ Please go and read it before I finish the new chapter in a few days!

This message will be taken down once the new chapter is posted.

Thank you.


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